Fallout: Arizona
by Middle Class Liberal Softie
Summary: A decade before the second battle of Hoover Dam, NCR Ranger Haywood is out on patrol when a stranger offers her vital intelligence, which leads to a mission to eliminate a notorious Legion slaver deep within Legion held Arizona. However, during her quest, it soon becomes apparent that it is more than a simple assassination target and the future of California. Cover - Nona Lohr
1. Act 1 - Part 1

_**Act 1: Intro/California**_

 **Part 1 – Painted Rock**

Listens-to-the-River drifted amongst the long desert reeds of the River of Souls, feeling as one with the gentle flow of the liquid spirits of his ancestors beneath his feet. Progressing cautiously, as a breeze rippled through the water, his eyes focused downward - aware of the fatal danger that a misstep on a Gila-lurk brood could bring.

The voice ahead remained his primary concern, however, and he would stop suddenly when it would cease, only to continue when it resumed its rhythmical smooth tone. Crouched, he ensured that his head never reared above the height of the reeds, recalling the teachings of hunting mule deer - lessons that were interchangeable whilst stalking human prey.

The sandy pebbles slipped between his hardened toes and he felt the stimulating touch of brown reeds on his outstretched fingers. He stopped, forgetting where he was for a moment and closed his eyes, feeling the wind on his face, and pleasingly accepting the current state of affairs.

The voice was clearer now. It spoke of words that Listens-to-the-River did not understand or care for. Through the reeds, he could now see the rocky and red embankment ahead - the cliff-side above in microcosm. He isolated the source of the sound that originated from behind the jutting sedimentary rock that was nearest to him. A silent climb over the rock, that roughly matched his height, and he would be ready to pounce. He placed his coarse hands on the rock, pulling himself up as quietly as he could, resisting the urge to release his effort with a grunt, and steadied himself with natural footholds.

The distinctive brimmed hat was now visible, and so he determined that she must be sat alongside, hidden from his view, patient and studious as usual during the lectures. Now was the time. With two quick movements, he leapt onto the rock and then over the source of the voice, landing on his feet releasing a war cry that echoed throughout the surrounding gorge. The man, who was sitting against the rock reading a pre-war book, let out a brief but terrified cry, a flinched in alarm hurling the book into the air. Listens-to-the-River turned rapidly to face him, and caught his alarmed expression, laughing as he panned to the man's right and then left. Vacant. His grin disappeared.

The man managed to stop himself from cursing with a babble of sound. He composed himself quickly, however, and measured his tone and words.

 _By the cross! Must you do that, River?_

The man rose with an effort and collected his reading materials.

 _She is not here._ Stated River dumbfounded.

A laugh resounded from the rocks above. River searched for the source, until he saw a girl peering over an overhang, clapping joyously. River sighed and resigned himself dejected from his defeat.

 _I saw you from the river bend!_ She shouted down. _Wait there, I'll come down._ She chuckled.

 _You never miss his lectures._ River shouted back.

 _I was listening but from afar._

She clambered down until she was face to face with the aspiring warrior-hunter.

 _Oh, don't be disappointed River, you may be a good hunter, but I know you well – too well._

He smiled reluctantly.

 _And what's more, I have the smarts._

As she made this revelation she twirled her braided hair, cocked her head to one side, and looked to the sky.

River retaliated: he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder as the girl shrieked, threatening that she could easily join the ancestors in the river ahead of schedule.

 _Okay, okay, cut it out you two._ _A hunter and an academic: I don't know who to fear more. Just give me some peace and quiet._

River released the girl.

 _Peace, Peter? This is peace!_ River outstretched his arms and slowly rotated. _The beautiful land of the souls!_

 _Beautiful? Yes._ _Peaceful? Your people have much to learn about peace._

 _Have you come to listen, River? You will learn something from the land beyond._ Enquired the girl.

River yawned and stretched in reply, and the girl playfully struck him in response.

 _Well if you have not come to listen, would you make yourself useful and carry my bag back to the cave? It is getting late and you must get back._

River accepted the challenge to validate his masculine prowess, taking the rucksack over his shoulder. Peter smiled surreptitiously at his victory.

 _Yes, we must prepare for the night meal._ Said the girl.

 _Next time maybe you can call ahead so that I do not risk dying an early death?_ Peter requested, in hope more than anything.

 _You are smart Peter, but not strong. You can learn much from me - like being brave._

The girl rolled her eyes at this boast as they began their ascent up the trail that led to the head of the clifftop; the girl at the front, Peter following with a limp, and River at the rear.

 _That may be true, but there are times to be brave, and there are times to listen. Your name indicates this, no?_

River made a face in return, yet unseen by Peter.

 _Peter is right River, you can learn much about the lands and wastes beyond. Someday we will have to leave this place._

 _Why? Our lands are safe from the other tribes, they fear us and we fear no one…_

The girl stopped and turned halting their progress.

 _We make too many enemies, one day we may have to leave this place. It will be up to our best scouts to seek safer lands. Such as you._

 _I do not want to be some lowly seeker, I want to be a brave warrior!_

 _And join Mother and Father in the river, is that it?_

River studied her solemn demeanour for a few fleeting seconds, before gazing defensively across the ravine. The girl shook her head and continued. Peter placed a hand on River's shoulder.

 _She cares for you._

Peter indicated briefly that he wanted to say something more, but he turned back and made his way after the girl. River stood motionless for a moment before eventually continuing.

He knew what was expected of him. He liked to hunt, scout and explore, and therefore was a prime candidate for a "seeker" for the tribe. But the Painted Rocks were a proud tribe, with many traditions and a history of brave warriors that River wished to join. They had never been beaten in battle and had never lost their lands around the River of Souls. This river was his home and it was where his family was. And now there were rumours, strange tales of another tribe from the east. Mighty and terrifying. The Painted Rocks would fight if needed, but they were pragmatists also. The sacred lands were nothing without the people of the tribe. As the elders say: the lands may die, but its cultivators must live.

Dusk was now falling as they reached Peter's cave. Peter engaged what he called the "generator", breathing life throughout the small grotto. A solitary bulb that hung from the rocky ceiling illuminated the hollow, revealing a bedroll unfurled next to a table, atop of which stood a strange contraption that River failed to recognise: a box with what looked like a window. Near the entrance was another table littered with an assortment of strange objects. River set the bag down and instinctively picked up and curiously studied one of these unfamiliar objects.

Peter removed his neckerchief and hat and queried his student.

 _So, Miss Walk-Among-the-Stars: what have we learned today about Pascal's Law?_

 _Um, if pressure is applied… to confined fluid, then equal pressure will be exerted throughout to another surface._

 _Which means?_

 _Something small can move something big._

Peter smiled approvingly.

 _And what have you learnt?_ Asked Stars in return.

 _I learned…_ he sighed looking towards River. _Not to be afraid._ _That there is a time and a place for everything. Okay, school time is over. You should both be getting back, it's getting late and I want to avoid upsetting your elders again. Tomorrow I will test you on the lessons from the week._

River put down the strange object turning towards the cave exit with Stars in tow.

 _And I shall test you on my lessons!_ Stars responded.

Peter escorted them, beaming as he walked, and began a sentence but stopped after he had only uttered a few mere syllables. They both regarded him, searching for the rest of his statement, but his eyes were fixated on the horizon. They followed his gaze to determine what had taken his interest. Smoke. Black smoke rising in the distance, joined by more smouldering columns that split the skyline.

 _The village._ Mouthed River, audible enough to be a whisper.

Both River and Stars stood motionless, unsure of what they were seeing and unclear of what they should do. Peter meanwhile retreated, as quickly as his leg would allow him, back into the cave, opening a footlocker and removed a hunting rifle from within. He returned outside cocking the bolt of his rifle.

 _Stay here and don't move until I come back._

 _Where are you going?_ Asked Stars after him as he made his way back down the path that led to the river.

 _Stay here!_ He shouted as he hurried downwards.

For what felt like an eternity they had obeyed his command, studying the increasing levels of smoke for answers, until finally, they made eye contact.

 _Come on._ River gestured as he started after Peter.

 _He said for us to wait._

River ignored her, and after hesitating for a moment she followed.

Once they made their way to the river basin they continued upstream towards the village, until they came to the mutfruit plants that grew on the floodplain. Night had now set in and multiple raised voices could be heard throughout the darkness, including Peter's. They made their way closer to the source, discovering a clearing that had been lit by a number of torches, taking cover amongst some of the undergrowth.

Peter was an instantly recognisable figure as he was closest to their hiding place. His rifle was drawn but not aimed at the torchbearer strangers who had established a semi-circle around him. Each of which held something in their free hands, which at first River discerned in the dark as short wooden planks, until he saw them glint from the light of the fires. They were machetes - familiar weapons that the Painted Rocks warriors had wielded in battle. The men were odd looking: they wore skirts, leather chest plates, and helmets from the old world. River recognised these from the finds he had made scattered throughout the big paths – or roads - that led away from the sacred lands.

There was much shouting; Peter repeatedly asked to see the chief of the tribe, whilst the strangers told him to relinquish his weapon. Then one of the strangers shouted a word above all the others that puzzled River.

 _Decanus!_

Another man appeared from out of the darkness. Dressed similar to the others, yet distinguishable due to feathers which protruded from his helmet, like the tail of the strange bird that Peter had called a turkey. He did not have a machete like the rest, instead, he had a great fist, a glove that was made of metal. This man they had called Decanus ambled towards Peter, and the instant he made himself apparent the rest of the men fell silent.

The Decanus met Peter at eye level and after a moment of silence, circled him counter-clockwise studying his appearance.

 _My… my name is Peter Lowell. Please, I must talk to the chief of the tribe…_

 _What tribe?_ Interjected the Decanus.

 _The Painted Rock tribe._

By this point, the Decanus had completed his circular journey.

 _I know of no such tribe._

Peter stuttered slightly over his words and blinked often, but he took a deep breath and made eye contact with the Decanus.

 _They're the tribe you're enslaving right now._

 _There is no tribe of this name - no longer._

The Decanus moved closer so that he was within touching distance of Peter.

 _And you, Peter Lowell. Who are you? A neighbour? Trader? Troublemaker? Dissolute?_

 _I… I'm a friend of the tribe._ _A Follower._ _A Follower of the Apocalypse._

He indicated to his jacket shoulder sleeve revealing the symbol that displayed the distinctive cross within the circle and brought his arm around for the Decanus to see more clearly.

 _The cross!_ The Decanus shouted as he turned to face his men. _The dissolute wants the cross!_

 _Yes… the cross._ _I am from the same place as your leader._ _The one you call Caesar._ _If I can just talk to the chief, we can avoid the bloodshed…_

The Decanus slowly rotated back to face the Follower, slumping his shoulders and bringing his head in close proximity with Peter's.

 _No._ _Not dissolute._ _A Profligate._ _Blasphemus. He asked for the cross, and we shall oblige._

With this, the Decanus raised his great fist which "fired" at Peter's trigger hand. The rifle broke and span away. Peter screamed and nursed his damaged hand. Two men took him by the arms into the darkness towards the source of the smoke.

 _ABSOLUTUM DOMINIUM!_ Screamed the Decanus as he raised his fist to the dark sky. The men cheered in response.

 _TRUE TO CAESAR!_ They chanted in unison.

Stars began to weep silently, but only anger festered within River.

 _Stay here._ River whispered.

 _What are you doing?_

 _I'm going to get Peter._

Stars took him by the arm.

 _You are stupid. They will kill you!_

River wrestled free and fell slightly against the brush. He gave her a disapproving look and then left to make his way around the clearing. However, before he had departed from the outskirts of the clearing for the village, he noticed that the Decanus had remained alone in the glade. Yet, from what he could tell the man was now searching close to where River had just been with Stars, having perhaps heard him when he fell during his tussle with her.

River resolved himself and stepped out from the cover of the undergrowth. The Decanus saw him immediately and narrowed his eyes, but this look of determination quickly gave way to a sneer. He went down on his haunches and analysed the boy. River made a fist with his hands but remained still. The Decanus beckoned for him.

 _Come. Come to me and defend your honour._

River remained, building up all his hate as was the way of the warriors before they went into battle.

The Decanus' expression changed and he rose to his feet.

 _Or am I mistaken? Are you merely the frightened runt of the litter?_

River ran in hard and within moments he was in striking range of the Decanus. He unleashed all he had - blow after blow reached up upon the exposed face of the Decanus. He must have thrown a dozen punches before the Decanus' mighty fist came down into his stomach, throwing him backwards: dazed and defeated.

 _Weak, but your spirit is strong._

The Decanus took River by his long hair, dragging him away from the clearing. River struggled briefly, but then quickly turned his attention to the undergrowth, scanning the darkness for Stars until he was taken out of sight and into the village.

All around him flames rose like monsters in the darkness. He heard a familiar voice, but pained and emphatic. Looking to his right he saw Peter crying in agony, lashed and nailed to a cross, among others, including the elders, who had met with the same fate, moaning and pleading for mercy. A pungent smell took hold of his senses, unfamiliar but sickening. River traced the cause to his left and identified a burning pile of the Painted Rock braves who had perished. Unceremoniously their souls were being cast to the sky, to be separated for eternity from their ancestors.

The Decanus released River; his head fell hard to the ground. For a moment, he was stunned. He sat up and found himself surrounded by all the boys of the tribe: from babe to adolescent. Tearful and terrified the boys looked for guidance and answers from the chaos around them. River searched desperately with his eyes and found another group - the girls of the tribe being hoarded into a distinct assembly away from the males. He got to his feet in order to make his way toward them, but after a few mere steps, a blow to his stomach felled him to the floor. The assailant and invader screamed at him to stay put. After catching his breath, he began to cry and called out desperately for his friend.


	2. Act 1 - Part 2

**Part 2 – Laguana Salada**

 _ **FIFTEEN YEARS LATER**_

 _ **2270**_

Haywood was ready. So, she went through her usual routine: she scoured the scorched horizon, closed her eyes, and listened to the desolate silence. She took a deep breath, inadvertently inhaling the surrounding salty aura which momentarily overpowered her senses. She opened her eyes and rested her cheek on the stock of her rifle.

Law-bringer is what she called it. A .308 DKS-501 variant with a modified sound suppressor. The red star of the Republic and the name she had designated it was engraved on the receiver, the rest of the rifle, however, was jet black and unspoiled. Many a time it had brought justice to the outer regions of the New Californian Republic, and here it was again bringing righteousness to another gang of raiders. This group branded themselves under the appellation Las Caras Saladas – The Salt Faces – having established themselves on the salt lake near the ruins of old Mexicali.

 _Range 954._

Haywood had joined the army at sixteen, and by twenty she had become a member of the NCR Rangers: the elite unit of the Republic. She had excelled in training with a sniper rifle, so much so that she had earned the nickname "killer". A steady heartbeat, good judgement, and a propensity to remove herself emotionally from any given situation, her instructor remarked when she passed sniper training, although many of her fellow Rangers commented that this could easily be attributed to her attitude when dealing with relationships. She rose quickly to the rank of Captain, demonstrating her ability to lead, but her lack of respect for authority, specifically towards the sons and daughters of brahmin barons, who knew little of strategy, having been inserted into positions of rank via acts of nepotism, had impacted on her hopes of leading her own platoon.

 _954, Check._

In any event, she preferred working exclusively with her spotter, someone she trusted having operated on assignments together for over four years. They knew each other inside and out, their instincts were one of the same, and they communicated on the level with no fear of rank or misunderstandings.

Staff Sergeant Alicia Fernandez was a ghoul: a survivor from before the Great War who had become immortal from natural ageing. Their "curse" however, was to outlive their decomposing skins, leaving corpse-like features. No one knew how or why it happened to certain people, and despite some preconceived attitudes prevailing regarding their "race", even in the increasingly diverse and liberal NCR, Haywood never held any intolerances personally. Born and raised in Junktown she had lived amongst ghouls, so Fernandez was just another soldier to her. A Mexican national from before the War, she was quick to remind anyone that would listen that she was from Baja California, and so, as a two-hundred-year-old Californian, she could claim to be more Californian than all the "smoothskins" in the NCR.

 _Fire when ready._ Relayed Fernandez from behind her binoculars.

Las Caras Saladas was one of the few raider gangs that still posed significant problems to trade routes within the NCR. They discerned themselves by applying make-up to their faces from the salt deposits of the lake, giving rise to their name. They had begun by raiding caravans and initially were seen as no more than a nuisance by the leadership back in the NCR Capitol: Shady Sands. But now they had pushed into the ruins of old Mexicali and threatened the nearby settlement of Neuva Mexicali. The southern section of the NCR Army operated out of their base at El Centro and was tasked with the "pacification and displacement" of the gang. They had clashed on multiple occasions with the Salt Faces but had suffered "needless and irreparable casualties". Therefore, a change of tactics was issued with small units tasked to infiltrate and operate within raider territory, "neutralising" the raider leaders with the goal of dispersing and ultimately disbanding their adherents.

Haywood had him in her sights. Malo - the last of the Salt chiefs that she had been hunting. She had dispatched three of their previous heads and it was hoped with Malo's death the Faces would collapse. This man was particularly vicious to NCR citizens and soldiers, which leant truth to his name, and she would take particular satisfaction from his demise. Ultimately, however, orders were orders, and she had killed dozens of people on behalf of the state, the majority of which was just a name and a face to her. This was just another mission.

She pulled the trigger. From her position on a ridge on the Sierra Cucapá, she had clear sight of the raider makeshift base, and could easily distinguish the one known as Malo from the armour he wore that displayed his "trophies": teeth that he had taken from his victims. So many adorned his armour that it exhibited a white sheen in the desert sun. The shot ripped his jaw from the rest of his head. He slumped to the floor in an instant.

 _You missed._

 _No, I didn't._

 _The brain, we need the brain. Recalibrate to…_

 _Got it._

Haywood fired again and the shot found its target as Malo struggled on the floor. This time he went limp as the top of his skull scattered throughout the white sand. The camp went into a sudden frenzy.

 _That's our signal to leave._ Fernandez deduced.

Haywood raised her head and smiled at her revenge. Just another mission.

* * *

 _Road._

 _Nope._

Fernandez thought hard. Haywood was on point cradling her sniper rifle as the two of them were making their way back to base.

 _Rifle._ Fernandez smiled.

 _Nope._

Her smile quickly disappeared.

 _You're not practising your Spanish, are you?_

 _The only Spanish I know Alicia is what you've taught me, and that is limited to "Chinga usted"._

 _That's my girl._ Laughed Fernandez. _There's nothing out here, it's a whole load of nada, what else begins with R?_

 _Radiation._

 _Radiation? You can't see radiation._

Haywood twisted round and continued her walk backwards, smiling to Fernandez.

 _Oh, I see. Very good. Very funny. Okay, my turn._

Haywood turned back around, still pleased with herself as Fernandez continued.

 _I spy with my little *radiated* eye, something beginning with C and U._

Haywood expressed her amusement with an enthusiastic laugh. She spoke with a strong voice, a hard edge, reinforced with a Californian inflexion - assured but simultaneously welcoming. Her disposition, however, were deceived by her features. Sun cheaters covered eyes that betrayed her, witnesses to the horror that the wastes had to offer. A large scar was visible on her left cheek - a gift from Malo. Her self-ascribed "lucky" tan brown broad-brimmed hat, with its faded but frequently polished two-headed bear and star insignia, hid from view her dyed platinum short hair, emulating in colour the surrounding desert wastes and cut short to ensure she had maximum visibility when aiming for a kill. Tattoos marked the back of her hands each displaying the same phrase: BEAR CLAWS, a reference to the national animal of the Republic and a reminder of her duty and function in life.

Her uniform was worn from age and use. Her black combat armour was covered with an assortment of pockmarks, unadorned apart from the obligatory name and rank above her heart, and her own unique mark printed on the right breastplate in white lettering: CALIFORNIAN JUSTICE accompanied underneath by the number 58 - the number of her confirmed kills that was soon to be changed to 59 after today. In contrast, Fernandez liberally decorated her armour with a number of Spanish words, such as DEFENSOR, LIBERTADOR and BRAVO Y LABORIOSO. Haywood was taller than most other serving females, and sturdy too, exemplifying a fortitude and one whom, at first glance at least, should not be irked. Her leather coat was increasingly tattered and frayed at its edges, hot to wear in the desert heat, but an integral part of the uniform and woe betide anyone to suggest that it should be removed.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the wastes, showering Haywood with grains of sand. She raised her neckerchief so that it protected her mouth. The great radiated sandstorms that came from the south could be deadly without shelter, but they were near enough to the ruins of Progreso which would provide adequate enough cover to sit out the storm. Without a word, they both upped their pace.

The wind had picked up significantly by the time they had reached the ruins. The large pre-war warehouse at the entrance of the old town stood imposingly amongst the rest of the ruins. It was to be their chosen sanctuary from the storm. However, Haywood detected a figure on the road ahead that led into the town proper. Through the flying sand, the outline of the posture confused Haywood initially. The body was bent forwards and it moved wearily, stuttering from side to side, but generally in a direction towards her.

 _What's wrong?_

Fernandez spoke with a characteristical ghoul vocal sound: scratchy and dry, but in her case retaining her Mexican accent. She had not seen the figure and had been busily removing some debris that blocked an entrance to the warehouse. Haywood didn't respond and looked through the scope of her rifle to obtain a better view. It was a man. He was holding his side; most likely wounded, but Haywood knew raiders often used this as a ploy to entice traders and settlers into their traps. Something was different however, he wore what looked like a skirt, and his torso armour would be a giveaway if he was planning some sort of ploy. The man raised his head initiating visual contact with Haywood, holding out his free hand pleadingly.

 _Who is it?_

Fernandez had now identified the man and readied her service rifle.

 _He looks injured._

 _Fuck him, he's probably a Salt Face._

Haywood continued to gaze at him through the scope, her trigger finger for now just resting against the guard.

 _Only one way to be sure._

Fernandez was motionless for a moment until she realised that a command had been indirectly issued.

 _Fine._ She sighed. _But if he tries anything you take his fucking head off._

Fernandez dropped her pack and primed her rifle, moving cautiously towards the stranger; scanning the ruins on the horizon as best she could through the increasing thickness of the storm. Haywood removed her shades, trading flecks of sand in her eyes for a clearer view down the scope. Fernandez had made her way towards the injured man and was now within shouting distance of him. She raised her rifle level to his head and said something; indecipherable to where Haywood was. The man mouthed something back.

 _Faster Alicia, faster._ Haywood muttered to herself.

Fernandez replied, and the man removed his hand from his side. Haywood initially thought he was reaching for a weapon and put her index finger on the trigger, but then she could see that he was revealing a wound – the distinctive dark colour was something that Haywood had seen many times before. She lowered her rifle and Fernandez beckoned for Haywood to join her. Fernandez took the left arm of the man over her shoulder and advised Haywood to take his other arm when she had caught up with them. Haywood hesitated, but Fernandez referred to Haywood by her rank, a rarity from her, but an indication that time was of the essence. Instigated into action, Haywood holstered her rifle over her shoulder and took the man's arm from his wounded side, inducing a moan from him.

With a closer look, she could see that the man was dressed in red. The skirt was a darker shade, and his shirt underneath the leather armour was of a lighter colour, apart from where it had been stained by blood. He wore a head wrap, fingerless gloves, heavy boots, and a small side sack. This was a uniform thought, Haywood, raiders usually decorate themselves with trophies – especially the Salt Faces – and wastelanders wore an assortment of equipment. He was dressed to be indistinguishable.

They made their way to the warehouse, almost dragging the man who was failing to keep up, who groaned with every step that he was forced to make. Haywood picked up Fernandez's pack with her free hand and shouldered open the entrance that Fernandez had cleared previously. Haywood settled the man on the floor next to some old crates, as Fernandez barricaded the door behind them, whilst Haywood removed her coat placing it under the man's head. Fernandez sat down near the man claiming to have a doctor's bag and searched inside her pack. Haywood meanwhile, removed his armour and ripped open his shirt around the wound for a clearer view.

 _It's a stab wound._ She diagnosed. _Looks like he's lucky, it hasn't punctured an artery. Pass me a stimpak, it should stop the bleeding._

Fernandez handed over the medicinal injection, and Haywood applied it near to the wound. Fernandez followed up by feeding him some water from her canteen, which provoked a series of coughs from the stranger.

 _What's your name?_ Enquired Haywood.

The stimpak worked quickly, returning colour to his complexion.

 _V… Vitus._ He answered coarsely.

Vitus? An odd name thought Haywood. Not a name from the Republic at least.

 _Where are you from Vitus?_

 _The… Legion._

Haywood looked at Fernandez who returned her gaze. She had heard rumours of a tribe of that name from across the Colorado. As far as she was aware, however, no soldier from the NCR had ever made contact with them, certainly in the south. Traders and pilgrims had often returned with vague and often contradictory information about them. The Government and military had never officially confirmed any knowledge at least.

Haywood studied the man. He was wiry but toned. Black hair poked out from under his head wrap. His face was angular and thin, and his jaw was dotted with black hair that feebly formed a stubble.

 _What are you doing here?_

The man pressed his face into Haywood's coat, desperate to avoid the question. Ignored, Haywood finished setting his wound and once done she silently beckoned for Fernandez to join her outside of the man's hearing range.

 _There's no way we'll be able to carry him all the way back to El Centro._ Stated Haywood.

 _We could just leave him. He'll be walking after a rest._

 _We'll have to report this. He may be a spy._

 _Bit of shit spy if you ask me. Maybe he's just lost._

They faced the man, who maintained his position on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

 _One of us could stay here while the other gets help._

Fernandez made an expression that evoked agreement and simultaneous indecision.

 _Well, for the time being, we can sedate him and decide what to do once the storm passes._ Concluded Haywood.

They returned to the stranger, Haywood taking her place next to him, and retrieved some Med-X from the doctor's bag. The man upon seeing this recoiled and tried to raise himself up from the floor, but Fernandez pushed him back, perhaps a little harder than he would have liked.

 _No, it is forbidden!_ He strained.

 _This will make you feel better._

 _I feel better already, I…_ The man paused. _Thank you. You have been helpful but I can offer you nothing._ Again, the man paused. _Maybe, maybe I can give you information in return. No, a warning._

 _A warning? What are you talking about?_

The man swallowed hard, closed his eyes and rested his head back on Haywood's coat.

 _You are NCR yes? I have seen your warriors in Bullhead._ The man opened his eyes. _You must know, that we are waiting. That one day we will cross the great river and crush you. Sunrise has already…_

 _Sunrise?_ Haywood moved closer to the man. _The settlement? What of it?_

The man returned to silence. Haywood was reassessing her theory; this man was no spy, especially the way he had dressed. He was a scout most likely. If he saw Kimball's attack on Bullhead city he must have watched from a distance, otherwise, he'd be dead or captured. His body was certainly built for long distance.

 _It is gone._ He said softly.

 _Gone? What do you mean gone?_

 _It had to be cleansed._

Haywood once again looked to Fernandez for guidance. This couldn't be. Was this just a ruse; some sort of long con? Sunrise had flourished on the banks of the Colorado, trading with the NCR but steadfastly remaining independent from the Republic. It was a way's east of here – a day's walk.

 _What happened? Tell me!_

 _I have been fair. Information for your help. It is a trade. Like the old ways. So now leave me be. Please._

 _Okay. Okay, Vitus. If you wish. You have your orders and I have mine. So I'm going to leave Fernandez here whilst I get help. Make you a prisoner. Understand?_

 _No. Please leave me be._

 _Then let's trade again. You tell me what you're doing here and I will let you go._

 _Captain…_

 _Quiet Alicia._

The man studied Haywood with sorrowful eyes. He blinked slowly and spoke again.

 _I'm a speculatore: a seeker for the Legion. I helped find Sunrise for the Legion._

 _How did you get injured?_

 _In battle._

 _In battle against the settlers of Sunrise?_

 _Yes._

 _And how come you're here?_

 _I was separated from my brothers. I was looking for them._

 _I don't believe you. If you're a scout, you'd know that heading west would lead into California, away from your people. I think you're a fugitive. You've divulged information already. I'm sure you can tell us more._

The man struggled to his feet with a grunt and stumbled towards the door. Haywood remained in place but parted a warning.

 _If the rads don't kill you, then the winds will. Where will you even go?_

The man stopped. He threw his head back and breathed deeply.

 _I must return._ He turned to face the two Rangers. _You look strong. I will not best you in battle. But I am fast, even when injured. I will escape any confinement you put me under._

 _Captain, the man wants to leave. We can't hold him. Under what charge?_

Fernandez was right: they had no grounds to detain him. NCR was not at war with the Legion, they barely even knew of their existence. Haywood couldn't even technically arrest him for trespass as this part of Baja was still being pacified. He had already divulged information that was either a wild lie or vital intelligence. Haywood rose to her feet.

 _You're free to go Vitus, but I advise you to wait until the storm passes. This is a large enough building, so there is no need for us to speak to each other again if you wish._

The man bowed his head and concurred.

* * *

The man had fallen asleep very soon after they had sat down to eat. In an act of kindness, the stranger offered some horsetail plant he had in his sack and they exchanged some more water in return. In a brief moment, Haywood was able to glimpse inside his bag: a small flask, some vials, herbs, a rope, and something orange and rectangular that Haywood found familiar, but was unable to place.

Haywood continued to study him from across the room as he slept. The wind howled outside, rattling the ancient metallic walls. She had half a mind to investigate his bag whilst he slept but reconsidered. She was tired and had propped herself against an old crate. Fernandez was already asleep after Haywood had volunteered for first watch, but her eyes were struggling to remain open.

Questions and thoughts raced through her mind: Was he telling the truth? Was he from the east? From the Legion? Had Sunrise been destroyed? Why had he come this far west? Was he really wounded in battle? And that object in his bag continued to bother her; she was certain she had seen it before. The questions continued to spin and her eyelids surrendered by closing. Before sleep took her, she heard the man murmur whilst he slept, often unclear and intermittent, but in amongst these words she was certain she heard him say "Stars".


	3. Act 1 - Part 3

**Part 3 – El Centro**

 _Good evening Captain. Your papers, please._

The sentry held out his hand in anticipation; Haywood retrieved her identity papers from her inside coat pocket and complied. "NAVY EL CENTRO" adorned the familiar sign that arched above the entrance to the NCR base, and beyond within the camp itself stood a pre-war flying machine - a statue stood frozen in time; constructed as a symbol then of the might of the old world and now a symbol of ironic hubris: lonely and isolated it was the sole survivor when everything else had been lost.

 _Thank you, Ma'am. Sergeant, if you please?_

Fernandez acquiesced to the request. Watchtowers loomed above into the night sky. Spotlights probed the enveloping desert; an oasis for traders and new recruits who travelled eastwards along the "Great Eight" from Dayglow, before moving onwards to the NCR outposts in the south, or east towards the edge of civilization. To Haywood, this place was her home away from home.

 _Thank you._ The sentry saluted and the two rangers responded in kind.

They made their way through the gate towards the Tandi Military Housing barracks, in which the administration buildings and armoury were located.

 _Listen, Alicia, don't mention what happened with the scout to anyone. Not until the Major has got my report._

Haywood was still seething. She had awoken on the warehouse floor that morning, drowsy and disorientated. It took her a moment to realise where she was. Bleary she scanned the large room until she remembered the legionary scout from the previous evening. She looked over to where he had been sleeping only to find him absent. She concluded rapidly from her demeanour that the horsetail he gave them the night before must have been drugged. It was now late morning and the storm had passed from the previous day. She frantically awoke Fernandez and cursed their stupidity before they made their long journey back to HQ.

They passed a platoon of volunteers on night drills and manoeuvres in the open yard outside the armoury. Inside, they were admitted by a pre-war military Mister Gutsy - a levitating sphere affixed with eyes and protruding metallic arms - reprogrammed to serve its new masters, and in the livery of the Republic.

 _Good evening Captain._ It barked mechanically.

 _Evening Gear._ Responded Haywood wearily.

She handed in her weapon for inventory check, and a robotic limb took it up. The machine used it's "eyes" to scan the serial number of the weapon before placing Law-bringer into a locked cage.

 _Did you give those Commie sons-of-a-bitch a what for? It asked._

 _Are you defaulting again? Remind me when was your last maintenance check-up?_ Asked Fernandez cautiously.

 _No bleeding-heart sissy doctor needs to have a look at me, Staff Sergeant. I'm as fit as a fiddle._

After a brief bureaucratic checklist of the ammo spent and the rounds they'd returned, they exited the armoury as Fernandez made a comment regarding the risk and likelihood of that machine going haywire around the camp. Haywood disregarded her and merely stated that she would meet up with her later, promptly leaving in the direction of the administration buildings to deliver her report.

* * *

 _The whole fucking jaw._

Fernandez was sat up on her bunk in the ranger barracks, a beer in hand, relaying her story to a young lieutenant that was sat on a nearby bunk.

 _Bullshit Sergeant. She's good but not that good._ Replied the lieutenant.

 _You don't know Haywood. Four years I've been her spotter and every year she surprises me. The sick fuck was withering away on the ground and then BAM another shot to the brain. Now that's justice. She's a one-woman fucking army. Her and Law-bringer could defeat the Legion on their own and I can retire in peace._

 _What did you say? Legion?_

The barracks was alive with chatter; a radio blared in the corner of the room. A programme on NCR Public Radio was seemingly discussing the proposal of a new welfare bill for veterans of the NCR military.

 _Huh? No… I said region. She could defeat everyone in the region. What the fuck is this shit? Someone change the channel, it's Jerry time. Lieutenant, would you do the honours?_

The Lieutenant begrudgingly rose and obliged, changing the station on the radio.

 _Anyone would think you're the officer Fernandez._ The Lieutenant quipped as he took the opportunity to slink away.

 _Hello guys, gals, and ghouls. What's the haps? How you fine looking soldiers doing out there throughout the sunset nation tonight? I'm Jerry McGhoulberry and I'm feeling good, and here on ANCR radio, I'm kicking off with Ella and the spots._

 _Out on the plains down near Santa Fe,_ _I met a cowboy ridin' the range one day,_ _And as he jogged along I heard him singin',_ _The most peculiar cowboy song…_

The music continued as Haywood entered the barracks. She was received with a round of applause from the other rangers in appreciation of her feat. Reticent, she nodded half-heartedly in response.

 _I'm assuming Alicia has updated you all. My very own cheerleader._

 _I prefer public relations officer._ Fernandez responded amid gulps of beer.

The Rangers returned to their own interests. Haywood made her way over to Fernandez, sitting next to her on the bunk. Fernandez supplied her a beer.

 _Where have you been? Did you speak to the Major?_

 _Just needed some air. Yeah, I told him what happened. He said to write it all down in my report and he'd speak to the colonel. He must have been with him when I handed in my final report to his secretary; cause he wasn't there when I got back._

 _Speak of the devil._

A man entered through the door and the barracks as a whole rose to attention, all albeit Fernandez who made a feeble attempt at a salute.

 _At ease guys, at ease. Ah, Fernandez, I'm surprised to see you here. According to Haywood's report, she said she left you with the Salt Faces. We could be so lucky I suppose._

The barracks fell into laughter. Fernandez took another sip of her beverage through what could be interpreted as an honest smile. Major Sandford was the ranger commander at the base, very popular with the troopers, rangers, grunts and officers alike. He began as a private in the regular army and had made his way up to Major in the Rangers after twenty-five years of service. Always ready and willing, he was also patient, kind, and jocular with his troops. His promotion was seen by some as overdue, and that he should have replaced Colonel Merritt as the overall Commander of El Centro, and thus director of southern operations. Others saw it as a compromise with the establishment, an attempt to moderate his repartee with the grunts by giving him more responsibility. It failed: he remained considerate and yet competent in his judgements.

 _Captain Haywood, the Colonel would like to see you._

Haywood and Fernandez exchanged a glance as the barracks fell silent. Haywood returned the beer to Fernandez and followed the Major out of the barracks, who had left the moment he had delivered his message. Once she had joined him they strode towards the Colonel's office on the other side of the housing compound.

 _I got your written report. I've handed it to Merritt, but after speaking to him, he was keen to talk to you as soon as. Now listen Faith, I can't say much right now, but he's going to ask you to go out again tomorrow. After the two day's you've had in the wastes I reckon you deserve a break, so I'm telling you now, you can refuse and I will be behind you one hundred percent._

Haywood was taken slightly aback by this. She had never refused an order no matter how much she disagreed with it, or the dangers that it entailed. Maybe the Major was concerned about fatigue, but it was more likely that the impending mission carried risks.

 _You know you've just made it more likely that I'd accept, right?_

 _Yeah, I know. Just remember…_ He stopped and turned to face her. _Only I can give you direct orders. They have to come through me, so if you refuse, he can't do shit to you._

 _Now what kind of ranger would I be if I just passed along the responsibility to someone else?_

The Major smiled.

 _I thought you'd say that. Just don't let the old bastard off lightly if he starts sneering at us rangers again. If it were up to him then we'd still be sending troopers in to fight that butcher Malo._

They continued onwards until they reached the admin building. Inside the lobby, they were greeted by a receptionist inside the lobby who remarked that the Colonel was expecting them and that they could head right into his office. Upon entering, Haywood presented herself in front of the Colonel, who sat behind his desk and saluted.

His office was typical and unremarkable: a desk was placed in the centre of the room, adorned with a pre-war terminal, stationary, lamp, a photo of the family, and several files that were scattered across the work surface. A portrait of President William Peterson peered down upon then from the wall at the rear of the office, and on either side of the picture, flag poles proudly draped the flag of the Republic. To Haywood's left and right, sofas sat below an assortment of portraits of NCR officials from its one-hundred-year existence. On the couch to her right, a dapper dressed man sat languidly with legs crossed, eyes fixated on Haywood since she had entered.

The Colonel swivelled in his chair slightly from side to side, peering over some pages in his left hand - that Haywood identified as her report from her own handwriting - as the index finger of his right hand rested on his chin.

Colonel Merritt was an ageing soldier, balding and a girth that was ever expanding to the relative size of his ego. Throughout his service, he had remained steadfast and stubborn. A veteran of the NCR-Enclave war, his combat credentials were not in question, but the rumour around camp was that he had come to such an elevated position of power through "friends in high places", whilst others believed it was a simple matter that no one else was available, or rather wanted the job. Although, the calamitous engagement with the Salt Faces, and the fact that as a consequence he had not been relieved of his command, suggested otherwise.

Merritt continued to study his papers and Haywood at-eased herself. Sandford closed the door to the office and sat on the sofa opposite to the strange man, whose hands busied themselves with a fedora that matched in colour his immaculate grey suit, as his eyes all the while remained on Haywood. In turn, Haywood took half a glance at the man before pulling back towards the Colonel. Merritt took one last look at the report and then set it on the table before him, raising his head slowly until he found the Captain's face.

 _Captain, you're to be congratulated it seems for single-handedly taking out the raider known as Malo._

 _Staff Sergeant Fernandez was with me, sir._

 _Discounting ghouls, obviously._ He swiftly corrected himself. _Oh, this is Special Agent Christiansen of the Bureau of Intelligence._

Merritt held out his stubby left arm to indicate the man in the suit, who rose and presented his hand, which Haywood took.

 _Please, call me Arnold._ He smiled.

 _Agent Christiansen has been hiding in the shadows at it were; overlooking our progress on the Salt Faces threat. How are we doing Mr Christiansen?_

 _Oh, swell._ He beamed to retook his seat and his gaze refocused on Haywood. _Just… swell._

 _He also has an interest in the man you supposedly saw. A man that seems to have slipped away from you._ The Colonel sat back into his chair and enveloped his hands, resting them over his gut. _You claim he drugged you. I find that quite embarrassing for a ranger._

 _You take whatever you can eat out there, sir. I'm just following your example. Sir._

Sandford smiled surreptitiously, hiding his reaction with a hand. The Colonel frowned.

 _One thing you should know about Ranger Haywood, Mr Christiansen, is that she likes to exaggerate. It's simply not enough to get the job done. You should take this report dubiously._

 _Sir, I apprise you that it is with the utmost certitude that within my role I consider anything and everything to be viewed askance._ The agent said cheerfully.

 _Indeed. So, this man, this Vitus, made two claims according to your report. One: that he is a member of a group of tribals known as the Legion, and two: that he claimed that the township of Sunrise was – and these are your words, Captain…_ The Colonel picked up one of the papers again and scanned it quickly. _Gone._ He put the paper back down on the table. _Is this correct Captain?_

 _Yes, sir._

 _Well, Ranger, I must say that I do find this hard to believe. Perhaps, however, I should defer to the agent here, lest I reveal a state secret regarding my opinions on the matter._

The agent continued to eye Haywood, tapping his lower foot rhythmically on the floor. The Colonel had finished his sentence without altering his gaze, but after a moment of brief silence he looked over at the agent.

 _Mr Christiansen?_

 _Uh, yes._ He cleared his throat. _Thank you, Colonel._ He opened his mouth and paused for a moment. _What do you know about the Legion, Captain?_

 _As much as anyone else I suppose. Only what the traders who pass through here say._

 _And what is that Captain?_

 _That they are a tribe. A new and different tribe. Some praise them for their sense of order, others claim that they commit crimes worse than raiders…_

The Colonel interjected.

 _Can we hurry this up, Christiansen? It's already getting late._

 _Well, Captain, you're certainly not wrong. The truth, however, is that although they are primal in their methods, they are well organised and numerous. Our understanding is that almost every tribe in Arizona and New Mexico has been subsumed into this organisation._

 _You've known about them?_

 _Oh yes, we've known about their existence for a number of years._ The agent sat forwards. _We were unaware, however, of the proximity of their forces. Our eyes across the Colorado are not as clear as we would like, I'm sure you understand. The fact is, if you have made contact with a member of this "tribe" if you will, then this will be the first such occasion. We have received unsettling information regarding the town of Sunrise, and that it may indeed have been assaulted._

 _I think you overestimate these tribals, Agent. The manner in which you and the BOI refer to them, you'd think that the Enclave has returned. What Agent Christiansen is trying to say is that these undeveloped filthy savages may have seized some citizens of Sunrise. Certainly, it has not "gone", especially to a motley band of raiders._

 _Er, yes, Colonel._ The Agent looked at the floor fleetingly. _As you can understand Captain, the relationship between the NCR and Sunrise is preeminent in the thoughts of President Peterson. There are ambitions to eventually incorporate the settlement officially into the Republic. So, I think it would be remiss of us not to at least send out a small scouting party to, um, survey the extent of the damage to the settlement._

 _I suppose I'm volunteering?_

 _I would hope so, Captain. But there's more, continue please Agent Christiansen._

 _If we are to maintain favourable ties with Sunrise, then if possible we'd like to return any citizen that was apprehended by the Legion. Now, if the number of settlers happen to be multitudinous, short of mobilising a full force and at a risk of declaring all-out war, we instead have information pertaining to the possible identification of the leader of this specific raid. This individual has been known to us for some time, we understand he has committed a number of crimes against people east of the Colorado. However, if he has perpetrated any transgressions against the people of Sunrise then he will be branded a terrorist of the state and a legitimate assassination target._

The Agent picked up a file which lay beside him on the sofa.

 _The name of this man is Un… Ungala – that's U.N.G.A.L.A – also known as "The Despoiler of New Mexico". The most authentic intelligence we have regarding the individual is from a trader based out of the Hub who came across him near Kingman, Arizona. He provided the following account:_

 _"The religious slaves, those who call themselves Mormons, refer to him as the Devil: a word that represents evil in their religion. The soldiers call him the Despoiler of New Mexico, on account of his brutal conquests of that area. When I first laid eyes upon him I wanted to laugh, but I'm glad I didn't. He wore the skin of a deathclaw: his feet were paws, his armour scales, and his face featured the discernible horns and mouth of the creature. He wielded claw-gauntlets in each of his hands. He chose only to speak the language of the Legion, and through an interpreter, he told me that his uniform was a trophy he had taken personally from a deathclaw he had slain. And in doing so he had embodied the soul of the beast, yet tamed by the touch of Caesar himself. He never removed his "skin" even when he ate. When hungry he would pick a slave or a failed legionary to sate his hunger, gutting them with his adopted hands, and would then feast like an animal on all fours from their fresh innards, as everyone else was forced to watch. I knew then, from what I had truly seen, I could comprehend the meaning of evil. This I saw and is my testimony."_

The deathclaw: the most fearsome creature of the wastes. Long thought as a myth, they now roamed the wasteland, multiplying faster than any brave hunter who dared tracked them could poach. Their origins were shrouded in mystery, but some claimed they were failed test subjects of Enclave research – the continuity of the US Government - whilst others said that they could be found in the wastes long before the Enclave appeared in California. Some were said to reach as high as twenty feet tall, with claws as sharp as any blade wielded by man, could be faster than a coyote, possessing jaws that could break a person in a single bite, and horns that could pierce Brotherhood steel.

 _So, looks like I'm going deathclaw hunting._

 _Yes, Captain._ Yawned the Colonel. _Scope the town, gain intelligence, and then track the sick fuck to the Capital Wasteland if need be. We'd like to keep this as quiet as possible, you'd understand. Seeing as you're abreast of the situation you'd be ably suited. Take the ghoul too. Any objections Major?_

The Colonel began clearing some papers on his desk without so much as a sideways glance to Sandford.

 _I think, we need to be clear here with the Captain, that we consider Sunrise to be within our sphere of influence, and so this Ungala, is a legitimate target. In that regards this does not have to be undertaken as a clandestine operation._

 _Absolutely. The Legion needs to know that the NCR is not to be fooled with and that our interests are not to be threatened. Kill this freak, and then those misfits will think twice about crossing the river again._

 _Fine, sign me up._

 _Good. The Major will outline any further mission details. Dismissed._

Haywood saluted. The Agent rose, shook her once again by the hand, and parted a farewell and good luck. Haywood exited the room, followed by Sandford. The Agent turned to the Colonel who was back to busying around his desk.

 _Gee Colonel, are all your rangers like that?_


	4. Act 1 - Part 4

**Part 4 - Sunrise**

 _Are you seeing this?_

Yes, thought Haywood, but she could scarcely believe it. They had camped overnight at the old junction on the All-American canal, so as to have the morning sun on their side in case Legion soldiers remained in Sunrise. They made their way down the Araz road and the settlement's namesake revealed the unending horror. The irony was not lost on her.

For over a mile along the side of the road stood wooden crosses, each affixed with a person - the settlers of Sunrise. There were so many that Haywood believed that there could be no one left to account for. She periodically checked for life signs from every few crosses, but all were still. For a moment, Haywood thought that perhaps it wasn't a raid at all: just a cruel slaughter.

 _Have you noticed something?_ Enquired Fernandez.

Apart from a road of death, what else was there to notice, she thought.

 _They're all men._

Fernandez was right. Haywood had yet caught on to this. Men, on every cross. Some as young as teenagers, and the elderly too, accompanied with every age in between. No women and no children. Haywood felt fear, she was not immune to it, but she had seen enough not to suffer from the feeling too often. This was something else - a sign of things to come.

 _Come on. Let's check the town._

* * *

There was not much to see. Every building had been burned to the ground. The fires had expired and apart from the odd smouldering bit of wood, the skies were clear.

 _Well, now what?_

Fernandez's question was more than pertinent. They had orders to pursue Ungala, but on the understanding that they'd be able to acquire some information from the settlers and track him into Arizona. Haywood was at a loss.

 _NCR?_

A deep booming voice came from behind. Their instinct took over and they aimed their weapons as they reeled around. The first thought from Haywood was that this was either someone who was very stupid, or who had never seen an NCR Ranger before. Yet, the moment she saw the individual whose voice it belonged to she dropped her guard.

Facing her was a monstrous humanoid: scaly and green – a Super Mutant. She had seen them before, but the majority had left the NCR many years ago, after the defeat of the Master - the leader of the initial Super Mutant scourge. However, the ones who had remained in the Republic were always friendly, well-mannered, and intelligent. This, added to the fact that a bullet would most likely merely aggravate the beast, was the determinant factors in her signal to Fernandez that she lowers her gun.

 _Yeah, NCR Rangers._

 _You're late._

 _What happened here?_

 _Legion. They came from over the river. Killed all the men. Took the women and children._

 _Why only take the women and children?_

 _They raise the children: males become soldiers, females will replace their mothers as slaves and child bearers._

Haywood felt sick. She didn't understand. She knew raiders could commit despicable acts against women, but they usually had women in their ranks. She knew that even in the NCR some fathers were not fit to bear the name, but women were revered in their society. The first NCR President was a woman, an idol to Haywood and to so many other females in the Republic. And now, these people were rewriting everything. Well, not on her watch.

 _Which way did they go?_

 _Back across the river._

 _Do you know where?_

 _No, although if you're planning on going after them, I request to join you._

 _Captain, we can't take a mutie. No offence._

 _No offence taken, but I can look after myself. Also, I may have something you want to see._

With that, the mutant turned and walked away without a word.

 _I guess we should follow it._

Haywood agreed. They walked alongside the lumbering juggernaut, flanking it on either side.

 _Who are you?_ Asked Haywood.

 _My name is Gabby._

 _Gabby?_

 _Yes. Well, that's what they call me. The humans that lived here._

 _Why?_ Fernandez interjected.

 _I believe it's ironic. A title that conveys to be very talkative, but I'm usually a woman of very few words._

 _Woman?_

 _Yes, before I became a Super Mutant I was a woman, I believe. It was so long ago it's hard to remember._

 _And you lived here?_

 _Yes, I suppose they thought I would make useful protection for the town._

 _Some good that did them._ Snorted Fernandez.

The mutant paused and faced Fernandez, who recoiled slightly.

 _I dismembered five of their members before they decided I was not worth the effort. Would you like to find out how useful I am in a fight?_

The mutant briefly stared the ghoul down, then continued onwards. Haywood smiled to Fernandez.

 _Never seen you that scared._

 _What about that time that man came onto me in Dayglow?_

They re-joined the mutant.

 _My name is Captain Haywood, this is Sergeant Fernandez._

 _It is a pleasure to meet you._

 _Why are you so keen to join us?_

 _I feel I owe these people. The Legion must pay for their crimes. I would have gone after them myself, but that would have been suicide even for a Super-Mutant._

 _You know of the Legion?_

 _Oh yes, I have been east. Seen what they do. They are not so kind to mutants, and ghouls too if you weren't aware. So, I came back west and settled here._

 _You said that we were late. Were you expecting us?_

 _I suppose. I was under the impression that the NCR was aware that a large Legion slaver party had camped across the river._

 _Why would you say that?_

 _The settlers here may not be aware of how brutal the Legion can be, but when you see fires burning across the river, I'm assuming a messenger would have been sent for help._

 _We received no word, as far as I know._

 _Then the settlers here must have thought they could deal with the Legion themselves._

 _Don't you know?_

 _I may be accepted here, but I'm not exactly privy to the decisions of the council._

Haywood reflected on her discussion with the Agent from yesterday. It had been bothering her for some time that Christiansen had said that they had possible identification of the Legion leader, but they couldn't confirm, or perhaps were willing to divulge, if Sunrise had been attacked. Yet, if they did know of the attack, then why send them to check? Unless…

 _He knew._

 _Who?_ Asked Fernandez.

 _Christiansen, not sure about Merritt. He told me during the meeting that they wanted Sunrise to join the Republic. So, they must have tracked the Legion raiding party across the river, knew that they were going to attack, but waited for Sunrise to ask for their help. Sunrise meanwhile knew this would set a precedent and lead to annexation, or they were just stubborn. Meanwhile, HQ hear no word of an attack, they don't even check until they've sent us. Either they want to disregard it, lest they get blamed for leaving it unprotected, or maybe they thought that the Legion decided not to attack. Whatever the case, they choose to ignore it until we told them about Vitus. Then they had no choice but to send the only ones who knew, and at the same time, we could do their dirty work by killing Ungala._

 _Vitus?_ Asked the mutant.

 _Yes, he was a legion scout we ran into the other day._

 _Funny you should say that…_

They had reached the Yuma Crossing Bridge on the Colorado River, still standing although a shadow of its former self. The river before them was calm, dividing the new ruins of Sunrise and the old ruins of Yuma on the opposite bank.

 _It's very nice and all but why are we here?_ Fernandez questioned.

 _A man came through here yesterday. He was dressed in Legion uniform. He calls himself Vitus._

 _Where is he?_

 _Down there._

The mutant pointed towards the shore on their side of the river bank. Vitus was submerged in the shallows of the river, his upper torso and head above the water line. He was still and bowed over slightly.

 _He's still alive. I found him weeping in the Sunrise ruins. Never seen a man of the Legion cry. I had half a mind to take his head, but I thought he could prove useful for interrogation. He offered little resistance. I tied him up and fastened a stone to his feet casting him into shallows. I said that if he didn't talk then the river would take him. I still don't think he's realised that the Colorado has no tide._

 _Has he talked?_

 _Yes, plenty. He says that he's on my side. Says he's trying to rescue a friend._

 _Then I think it's time we had a little chat with our new friend._

* * *

Vitus trembled next to the fire they had constructed near the ruins of Sunrise. Gabby stood behind him, supervising his movements in case he made any attempt to escape. Haywood took a seat next to him and handed him a flask. He looked at it quizzically.

 _New Republic whiskey. It'll warm you up._

After taking a long sip, he spluttered heavily before finding his composure.

 _I'm sorry I drugged you both. I didn't know if you would let me go._

Vitus spoke softly and carefully. His sentences were sometimes broken, but his words always articulate.

 _Best night's sleep I've had in years._ Joked Fernandez.

 _Let's start at the beginning, Vitus. Tell me everything you know._

Vitus handed the flask back to Haywood. He brushed his hair back.

 _Many summers ago, before I was Legion, a man came to my village. His name was Peter Lowell. He was a kind and learned man. He came from a tribe, or um what you call group? Called the Followers._

 _The Followers of the Apocalypse?_

 _Yes._ _He said he was there to look at the broken wall: the dam in the River of Souls. But instead, he stayed with us for two summers. The Elders did not like him living in the village as he was outsider, so, he lived in a cave above the river. We youngsters liked him._

He paused briefly.

 _Walks-Among-the-Stars especially, she spent much time with him._

 _Sorry, walk where?_

 _No, her name. Her name is Walks-Among-the-Stars. It is a tribal name. She is the last of… my old tribe - The Painted Rocks._

 _If she's from your tribe, how come she's the last?_

 _I am Legion. Only Legion. That is the way it is and must be._

 _Okay, go on._ Haywood gestured for him to continue.

 _Peter taught her much about his knowledge, and she taught him about our ways. But when the Legion came, they killed him along with the elders and many of our warriors. I was taken but she hid. After a time, I left the Legion, not for good, but as a speculatore, I am expected to be gone for many months, so I returned to my old village. I found her in Peter's cave. She thought I meant her harm, but I was just happy to see her alive. I would visit her as often as I could, but she is strong, stronger than me, a survivor, and she knows much. If my brothers could only see how much she knows, but they would kill her, so I kept her secret. Every time she would tell me of what she had learned, none of it I understood. The last time though, she told me she had broke the password. On those windows._

 _Windows?_

 _The box windows, with words._

 _I think he's referring to a terminal._ Gabby suggested.

 _Yes, on this terminal she heard Peter's voice. I have it… or I did._

He looked up to Gabby.

 _He has a holodisk in his bag. I have it here._

Gabby handed the bag to Haywood.

 _Okay, I'll listen to it later. Carry on._

 _I do not understand it, but she said it could save the Legion. She said that she needed to get over the great river. That she needed my help. How could I refuse her? But it would mean I would have to betray my brothers. I thought maybe I could bring her here and then return to my brothers._

 _How can you stand being with those people?_ Snarled Fernandez.

 _They are my family. I have become a great speculatore. I find many places for them. I found a place of the old world north of here and I found this place._

He fell silent.

 _I remembered this place and brought her here. But my brothers had already arrived. She gave me that message, in case we were separated. I tried to protect her, but they took her away. I escaped, but only just. I walked west._

 _Why?_

 _I would die if I went east and I would be no good to her dead._

He began to tear, looking up to the sky.

 _What is your name?_ He asked Haywood.

 _You can call me Captain Haywood._

 _Do you have family Captain?_

 _Yes, my parents live in Junktown._

 _And is your tribe – NCR - your family too?_

 _NCR is my country. I love my country very much._

 _It is the same for me. Legion is my family, and I serve only them until death. But Walk-Among-the-Stars, she deserves to carry the name of the tribe. I will protect her even against my brothers. She believes in me. Without her, I would have forgotten my past. My tribe, my old life. I would be like my brothers, with only the Legion to serve. For this, she deserves to be free._

 _And what of the others Vitus? The women and children that were taken from here?_

 _Many women are not like Stars, not like you. They are worse than dissolute. Degenerates. They live better as a slave._

 _Can I please shoot this guy?_ Fernandez queried.

 _Vitus, do you know where they may have taken your friend?_

 _Yes. There is a great camp, a slave camp, in what they call Quartzsite. They will be taken there to be sold._

 _Do you know a man called Ungala? Ungala the Despoiler._

Vitus' eyes narrowed on Haywood.

 _Centurion Ungala. He is mighty, brave and one you do not want to fail. It was he who led the raid._

 _Would you recognise him if you saw him?_

 _Of course, I have served him many times. He wears the face of a deathclaw…_

 _Yes, I know._

 _But, I have failed him, he would kill me._

 _But if you take me to Quartzite, to Ungala, I can help rescue your friend._

 _Skipper…_ Fernandez croaked.

 _I suppose, but what of them?_

 _They're coming with us._

 _They are not pure. If my brothers see them…_

 _Let me worry about that. But listen to me Vitus: I will be in charge, do you understand?_

 _Yes, I understand the principles of disciplinam._

 _But do you understand me?_

Vitus took his time before answering carefully.

 _Yes, save my friend Captain and I will serve you loyally._

 _Okay, what about this tape…_

 _It talks of the metal soldiers._

 _Metal soldiers? You mean robots?_

 _I do not know, just that they are secret._

Haywood studied the holodisk. Its distinctive orange colour was faded, but it was otherwise intact.

 _Is there anywhere to play this?_ Haywood asked the mutant.

 _Yes, there are terminals in the old prison across the way. In the museum._

 _Alright, Fernandez, keep an eye on Vitus. Gabby, keep an eye on Fernandez._

Fernandez dispatched a curse Haywood's way as she journeyed to the longstanding prison. She entered through the ancient broken gates and past the old cells. She knew little of history but knew it must have served a similar purpose as the NCRCF's that held raiders and traitors throughout California. The museum had caved in partially and many of the items inside had been taken, most likely by the settlers of Sunrise. However, a terminal stood on a desk of the museum shop, useless for farmers and traders, but still running due to its internal atomic battery. She powered the old machine and loaded the disk into the drive. The disk crackled for a moment before activating and broadcasting the deep voice of a male:

 _If you're listening to this Stars, then I am sorry. I am dead and I was never able to say goodbye. You must understand that I encrypted my terminal as I was unsure who may have had access. As you now know, the answer was in your name: stars, the sign you were born under. If I had made it any more obvious then this may have landed into the wrong hands._

 _I suppose I should start from the beginning: I left the Boneyard on behalf of the Followers on a journey into the Mojave Desert. My mission was to uncover the secrets of the great tower in the city that was once known as Las Vegas. From what I had learned, this tower – the Lucky 38 casino – was owned by Robert House, the pre-war genius and founder of Rob-Co industries. As a structural engineer, it was my task to find out how the building had avoided any signs of structural degradation in contrast to the skyscrapers of Boneyard that had long since collapsed. Traders and travellers spoke of the tower with mystery, but what I did not expect was to find the building occupied. House was alive. There was little contemporary information available but it was believed that he had perished in the Great War. Now, here he was, alive and well, with the secret of longevity, far more valuable than anything I would find on structural durability._

 _He was willing to trade his secret if I could retrieve something for him: a poker chip. He said that it could be found in the ruins of what was once called Sunnydale, and he offered me more caps than all the Water Merchants of the Hub. "Do this," he said, "and I will share Vegas with you." He wouldn't tell me anything more: what it was for, or even what it was exactly. House may be a genius, but his love of monetary wealth is his frailty. I assumed he was lying - an excuse to get rid of me._

 _So, I conducted my own research. Some of the operating systems he was using were old and easy to hack. I found information referring to a weather station on Fortification Hill near the old Hoover Dam. Inside was a vault of some sort. I deducted that this place may actually be where he was "housed" if you excuse the pun. Inside could be the secret to everlasting life. Instead, I learnt that it contained an army: an undisclosed army of machines. With such an army, America could once again re-settled, and the marauders and slavers placated for good._

 _Despite my efforts, however, I was unable to open it. I had a plan though: the dam. If I could reroute power from the dam to the station, then maybe it may overload the blast doors protecting the inner sanctum, forcing them to open. Scavenging the ruins of Sunnydale back west for a mysterious chip was never in question, so I worked on optimising power output from the dam to the station. My understanding of hydraulic engineering was lacking, and only one turbine seemed operable. I would need more power._

 _I know I went out on a limb, alone into the wastes, but we Followers can be too restrained on our objectives sometimes. I found a map at Hoover that indicated all the dams in south-western America. I concluded that if I could find a dam in better condition, then maybe I could reroute power through the grid back to the station. If not, then at least I would learn more about turbine control and maintenance. The risk was worth the prize in the vault._

 _I made my way down the Colorado, examining the Parker, and then the Alamo on the Bill Williams, but both were breached. I headed deeper into Arizona, to the Painted Rock Dam. I should have known. Hoover was one of a kind. Painted Dam was merely a flood control dam. And what's more, it was also breached. I had navigated my way down the Colorado, avoiding lurks, raiders and deathclaws, but I didn't know the simple difference between pre-war dams._

 _That was two years ago, and here I remain. Your tribe fascinated me. Ferocious, but tactful. Traditional, but perceptive. Almost overnight I became more an anthropologist, and less so an engineer. The side project ultimately became my main focus. I may have learned nothing about dam's, but much about people. That rad-scorpion sting I got in the leg was the final factor in my decision and I abandoned my venture – there was no way I would make it back to the Mojave. I spent too much time on House's secrets of longevity, engineering, and robotics that I forgot about people. The Followers have always claimed to have the opposite goals of the Brotherhood of Steel and now I'm proving it._

 _I would have let go, but on my travels, I heard about the rise of the Legion. When Bill Calhoun returned, he warned us of their threat, but we didn't listen. Maybe this recording will prove to be a tragic irony, and that my death was a result of their arrival, but the risk is that many in the tribe would set out to find them if they knew of their existence, and would willingly join. If I am wrong, then I hope I did all I could to protect you and the tribe. But it also means that you must find a way to open that vault. I have taught you all I can, and on this terminal, you will find my notes. I don't know how or whether you can do it, but I believe in you. If necessary tell the NCR, the Followers, or even House. The Legion cannot know of this. With such an army, nothing will stop them._

 _I never had a daughter, or any family to speak of, but I consider you as the child I never had._

 _Goodbye._

 _Peter Lowell, Follower of the Apocalypse._


	5. Act 2 - Part 1

_**Act 2: Arizona**_

 **Part 1 – Palm Canyon**

It had been two days since they had crossed the Colorado into Yuma. The idiosyncratic party, although in good health, had suffered from a number of disagreements. Fernandez was of the opinion that the eradication of Sunrise meant that their orders had effectively changed. A settler could have acted as a runner back to El Centro as they – specifically Haywood and Fernandez - would continue onwards into Arizona on the intelligence that they had gathered from the community. Now there was no one to report back to El Centro, and two questionable individuals had joined their company: a brutish looking if not supposedly cordial super mutant, and a rouge legionary explorer. Rangers preferred to work with more clarity than this.

Haywood countered that they had been on many missions previously that had lasted for days with no direct line of communication to HQ, especially when they partook in the pacification of Baja. Vitus was the best intelligence they had to go on, and he could prove useful as pathfinder and guide. Gabby meanwhile, could be advantageous as extra muscle in the event of any conflict. In any case, the mission directive stood: eliminate Ungala, and Haywood would carry her orders through to the end. Anyway, Christiansen probably had his own shadowy figures tracking them in some capacity; they were merely tools to fix a problem, Haywood knew this, she had always known her lot.

The information from the holodisk had, however, clouded her judgement on the mission parameters. If what the Follower had said was true, and that this Walk-Among-the-Stars was aware of an apparent vault containing a secret army, then it was imperative that its location should not fall into Legion hands, otherwise they would use such a force to overrun California. Haywood kept this information to herself; Fernandez was already aggrieved with the whole sorry situation, and the aforesaid revelation would only further obscure the objective. Claiming that the holodisk was non-specific, Haywood reiterated that the target took precedent, but they would seek out Stars for further clarity. This pleased Vitus and got him onside who, not fully aware of the significance of the holodisk, concerned himself only with the rescue. Gabby meanwhile, said she had not listened to the holodisk and was merely along with the expedition for the purpose of revenge, and Haywood, rightly or wrongly, trusted her assertion. Haywood meanwhile, was clandestinely changing the mission goals, as this was less likely to be a rescue, and instead, there were now possibly two targets.

They had begun by following the 95 northwards that would have taken them straight to the slaver camp at Quartzsite, but Legion checkpoints forced them to change their route. They had two options: Vitus suggested following the Colorado north then heading east from Ehrenberg, but Haywood thought this to be too risky – Legion slaver parties may lie await, ready to cross the river. Despite de facto neutrality between the NCR and Legion, Haywood was now fully aware that they held contrary philosophical beliefs and that their party would be viewed as a direct threat. They were within their territory without admission, on an assignment to kill one of their chiefs, and besides, they consisted of a ghoul and a mutant, that Vitus had claimed previously to be impure from the Legion's perspective, a deserter, and a woman. They would all be viewed as legitimate targets. If only they were men, Haywood pondered.

Ultimately, the only other route available was through the Kofa Mountains. Vitus knew of a path through which the Legion largely kept away from. When pressed, he revealed that monstrous animals were said to dwell there. In addition, rumours circulated through the Legion that deep within the mountains, spirits supposedly roamed: the dead from the Great Fire of long ago, haunting the living, resentful of their survival. True or not, and Haywood concluded on the latter, it was irrelevant to the mission. It was the only viable approach available to them, away from Legion patrols, but deeper into the unchecked wild. Ghosts and Legion would be the least of their problems, she knew critters of terrifying scale back in the Republic that kept to the most desolate places, away from the increasing urbanised settlements of the NCR. It was most likely the same in Arizona.

Plants and vegetation grew aplenty in the mountains here, unlike in the west which was heavily irradiated from the Great War, Arizona was sparser, especially in the remote areas away from the great ruins of the City of Ash and Two-Sun. A great crack divided the mountain range, Haywood was reminded of Indian Canyons back in Palm Springs, but Vitus claimed that there was one much deeper nearer to the northern boundary of Arizona, that he referred to as the "Mighty Scar", which could swallow all the tribes of the Legion and still have space to eat the dwellers of the NCR. This smaller canyon, however, was strewn liberally with trees that Fernandez called palms. Rising high above them she claimed that they were twice as tall as the ones that she remembered from before the war, mutated perhaps, like so much else in the wasteland. Haywood revered at the sight of these trees, nothing like the stark, eternally dead forests back in California. She felt their power consuming her, washing away her concerns and absolving her past misdeeds. Counsellors of nature removing her from the suffering of humanity, all within a fleeting moment.

 _He was insane._

 _No, he was misguided._

All too fleeting. Fernandez and Gabby had argued for much of the journey, although the truth was that Fernandez was usually the instigator cajoling Gabby.

 _He forced people into those… into things like you._

 _Ultimately, he wanted peace. He went about it the wrong way, but he stood up for mutants. After that, we had nowhere else to go._

Gabby was at the rear of the group as she had often been during their journey. Her heavy-set meant that she was by far the slowest of the four. Fernandez fluctuated between keeping a keen eye on Vitus who was on point guiding them, or falling back to question Gabby on subjects ranging from the ethics of the long since vanquished super mutant Master, to the pros and cons of the NCR.

 _If you mutants hadn't joined him then there would have been a place for you in the NCR._

 _Like there was for you ghouls? Even now your people tend to stay away from humans in case they get mistaken for ferals._

" _We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose hope." You know who said that?_

 _Martin Luther King. He also said, "one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws." And the NCR has many unjust laws towards its citizens._

Haywood knew that Fernandez actually respected Gabby, the telling indication was from the fact that she spoke to her, even if it was usually contentious. Many others were less (or arguably were) fortunate: if she chose to ignore you, then as far as she was concerned you were a rival. An example of this was Vitus, who she largely avoided communication with, remaining suspicious of him since Sunrise. A distinct change in attitude from her ambivalence towards him at Progreso.

 _Say what you like about the Legion…_ Continued Gabby. _and I certainly have much to say about them, but everyone has a purpose in their society._

 _You mean as long as you're a male._

 _No, whoever you are, you serve in some capacity. Don't get me wrong there is still a hierarchy, but that is no different to how the NCR prioritises some over others, particularly those of wealth. Others, however, are used only to be forgotten or ignored entirely. Sunrise had many NCR vets who had become destitute._

 _Hold on. We have freedom of choice, you can't seriously believe…_

And on it went. Haywood had had enough. She upped her pace to a slight jog, leaving the two to their debate. Vitus would often scout ahead of the party on his own, and the first instance that he had done this, Haywood believed that he was trying to escape. Yet, on every occasion, he would return with an update on what lay ahead. Trust was indeed building between them. She made her way through the tropical thicket, cutting a corner to the path ahead. When she emerged, she could see Vitus kneeling, eyes inspecting the ground below him.

 _Hey, Vitus!_

In response to her call, he held up a hand, turning his head towards her and raised a finger to his mouth. She prepared herself for trouble, silently making her way to his side.

 _What's wrong?_ She whispered.

He pointed to the ground. Imprints, paw marks to be exact in the dry desert undergrowth.

 _Yao Guai._ He whispered back. _A pack, including cubs._

Haywood had heard of these beasts: mutated descendants from pre-war bears, markedly different from the two-headed bear of the NCR insignia. So many had been hunted throughout California for their valuable and highly sought-after hides, that few now remained in the Republic, except in travelling circuses in which they had been domesticated and tamed.

 _This is bad._ Continued Vitus.

 _That's an understatement._

 _Where there are young, there is a mother. She is the fiercest of all. If she thinks we threaten her cubs…_

The voices of the other two gradually came into earshot, and as they came into sight as they rounded the bend in the canyon valley, Haywood signalled to Fernandez to crouch and hold. Fernandez obeyed, and Gabby made an awkward effort to bend her knees and lower her head. Vitus placed a hand on Haywood's shoulder and made a motion to indicate her attention to the palms ahead of them. A hulking body moved through the undergrowth - the mother who was currently unaware of their presence. The great beast stood on her hind legs and began to tear its claws into a nearby palm trunk. It was more horrifying than any of the stories Haywood had previously heard. Almost furless, apart from tufts of hair on its back and arms, the rest of its skin was slimy and scaly, its eyes white and lidless and teeth that were sharp, protruding from its snout.

Haywood gently repositioned herself to face the animal side on, raising Law-bringer to her eye line. From the corner of her vision, she could detect Vitus shaking his head pleadingly. They had no choice however, there was no use in going back, and she was confident that a single shot to the head would bring it down. Her shot reverberated throughout the canyon. The bear shook its head in response to its newly acquired wound, roaring in pain. The beast was not felled, and Haywood was overcome from her hubris. Vitus rose and turned quickly, running towards Fernandez and Gabby. Haywood, wide-eyed for a moment, came to her senses and made to follow. The bear righted itself and began its pursuit of the hunters, who were now the prey.

Vitus was making good ground and had past the other two with ease, who imitated his efforts, albeit poorly. Haywood was running hard, but Gabby was slowing, so much so that Haywood had almost converged upon her within moments. Gabby resigned herself and turned, raising her mighty fists. Haywood, intending to order her to continue, tripped on a vine. Law-bringer fell from her grasp and landed out of her reach. Her shades came loose and shattered on the ground as her body collapsed forwards into the yellow earth. She turned onto her back, but the size of her backpack meant that she had now taken a sitting position, and was faced with the beast who bore down upon her. Gabby instinctively positioned herself between them both, and Haywood exclaimed with a no. The Yao Guai came to a stop. Haywood couldn't believe it: the bear was actually fearful of the super mutant.

The bear paced slightly to Gabby's left and roared. Gabby responded with a deep throaty snarl. The bear then made several sudden flinching movements with its head skyward snorting loudly. Another deep growl was released through the canyon, this time, however, it was different in sound to either Gabby or the bear - longer and more guttural. The bear began howling. From a small passage in the rocky cliff to Haywood's left, emerged her greatest fear: the demon dragon - a deathclaw. Haywood raised herself forward slightly so that her pack was no longer resting on the ground, and was overwhelmed with aghast horror and the unbelievable bad luck of their situation. The horned beast, twice as tall as the bear, clawed its way out of the rift, its body manipulating through the fissure until it was clear, where it unwound the full terror of its frame. It spread its arms wide and roared again, and the bear growled back, shaking an absent mane in response to this new arrival.

 _Run._ Said Gabby gently, helping Haywood to her feet.

Haywood collected her rifle from the ground, taking a look behind as she carefully retreated, witnessing the beginning of the battle. Gabby held firm. The fight, however, was short. With a single strike of its claws, the deathclaw decapitated the bear. Digging its talons into the Yao Guai's corpse, it held the torso aloft as a trophy, screeching with delight at its victory over the deceased matriarch. Gabby stood tall, outstretching her arms and rising to the challenge. The deathclaw released her prize and then lunged for the mutant.

Haywood instinctively turned away and made haste down the trail before she could witness the conclusion of the attack. She had seen people that she cared about die many times, but this act of self-sacrifice was not out of a sense of duty or even friendship, they barely knew each other. Winded slightly by her fall, she inhaled with great effort as she ran away from the scene, but began to slow. She coughed up some catarrh, stopped and rested on her haunches, gulping desperately for air.

 _Skipper!_

From among a heavy congregation of foliage ahead came a hushed, but familiar scratchy voice of Fernandez.

 _Alicia? Where are you?_

 _In here, quick I hear voices down the trail._

Haywood entered the palm shrubbery, finding Fernandez kneeling in cover, rifle at the ready.

 _Where's Vitus?_

 _Ran off, no way I could catch him, so I hid here. Is that bear still after us?_

 _Not exactly. A fucking deathclaw turned up. Gabby sacrificed herself._

Ghouls, unable to display much emotion from their facial features - or lack thereof – were notoriously difficult in discerning their disposition, but Haywood could tell from her uncharacteristic silence that she was saddened by this news.

 _What voices did you hear?_

 _Down the way. Sounded like military orders. They must have heard your shot._

Haywood made her way through the heavy undergrowth to a tree line that provided a line of sight down the trail from which they had come. Within view came seven men all dressed similar to Vitus, but better armed and fitted. Some wore helmets and goggles, whilst others had headwraps akin to Vitus. One man stood out, distinguishable due to his headwear - a skinned coyote's head. Haywood made a quick armament assessment: three rifles, but not of good quality, three armed with spear javelins, and the coyote head had a submachine gun. In addition, each man had sheathed machete gladius.

Haywood gave a silent order for Fernandez to move along down the tree line and wait for her order to fire. Haywood reasoned to herself that they had no choice but to make a stand: cornered by a deathclaw to their rear, and although outnumbered, she believed that they were better armed and tactically superior to those that lay ahead. First, however, she wanted to attempt a round of diplomacy. They were likely a patrol that had happened to hear her gunshot, as Fernandez had deduced, and came to investigate. Perhaps they could be reasoned with. After all, they were not at war, yet.

 _Okay, hold it right there._

The men stopped instantly to the sound of her order.

 _I've got multiple rifles targeted on your position and will give the order to fire if you come any closer. Identify yourself._

The Legion soldiers tried to locate the source of her voice resonating throughout the canyon.

 _I am_ _Advocati Gaius, of Caesar's frumentarrii._ Said the coyote adorned man. _I am looking for the traitor Vitus._

Haywood dropped her guard slightly. They must have been tracking them, but she was willing to call their bluff.

 _I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a Captain of the New Californian Republic Rangers. We're on a scouting mission east of the Colorado. We're not here to fight._

 _Well, Captain, if that's true then I'm afraid you're trespassing on Legion territory, and I consider that as an act of war._

 _Just like your slavers who crossed the Colorado into Sunrise?_

The coyote man smiled to his men.

 _That settlement does not reside within the NCR, the last time I checked anyway. We have our spies also Captain. Let's drop the act, shall we? My men and I have been following you for some time. Since the Proving Grounds north of the ruins of Yuma. We know the traitor is with you._

 _You've certainly taken your time, what's been keeping you?_

A legionary on each flank moved forwards.

 _Ah-ah, I wouldn't do that: we'll gun you down before you take another step._

The coyote man gestured to his men to stop.

 _You may think you hold all the cards Captain, but I'm the one giving you a chance here. What have you got? A green beast, a dead walker, a traitor, and yourself – a woman._

 _Well, I'm very good, even for a woman. Not saying I can get you all, but I promise you'll be the first to go, Wile E._

 _I suggest that you do not underestimate us. We are sicariorum: Assassins tasked with eliminating undesirables and traitors to the Legion. It was only a matter of time before we caught up with you._

 _Seven men, to eliminate one, huh? You must be frightened of him._

 _No one escapes the wrath of Caesar. If you comply now, perhaps a form of clemency can be extended to you, Captain._

 _Oh yeah? And what of my friends?_

 _Like I said, undesirables are enemies to the Legion and are to be eliminated._

 _Then I'll have to pass. Thanks._

 _Have it your way Captain._

The coyote man ordered his men forward. Haywood relayed a firing order to Fernandez who responded by unleashing a round of fire. Haywood targeted a legionary who had approached closest on her flank, who went down in an instant. Fernandez was also successful, bringing the enemy total down to now five, who hastily took cover away from the open trail. They fired bullets and released their spears wildly towards the treeline. Haywood dispatched another legionary who had zeroed in on her position. Four now remained. The coyote man took refuge behind a rock, blind firing his machine gun, but as he did so Haywood had time to take a shot at an exposed arm, and in succeeding, caused him to recoil in pain.

 _Give it up and take off!_ Shouted Haywood.

The men complied and retreated, with the coyote man in tow, still clutching his injured arm. Haywood and Fernandez waited for a while until they were sure that enough distance had been established between themselves and the legionaries. They reconvened, content that the three prone legionaries were, in fact, deceased, and decided that they had no choice but to return up the trail towards the deathclaw. They could pursue their attackers, but at the risk that more of them may be making their way into the gorge. With a bit of luck, the deathclaw may have moved on from its victory, and they could recover Gabby's body.

When they had returned to the place where Gabby had made her stand, to their surprise they found the deathclaw lifeless - its neck broken to the side - and its vanquisher Gabby lying adjacent to it. She was heavily scarred and bleeding profusely, but remarkably she was grunting and jabbering inanely. They joined her on the ground unsure of how to medicate such a foreign being.

 _We've got to get her out of here._ Diagnosed Haywood.

 _How are we supposed to do that?_

 _I'm Okay._

Gabby rose slowly to her feet with much difficulty and swayed slightly. Fernandez released a profanity from her disbelief. Haywood told Fernandez to take an arm whilst she would take the other prodigious limb, not so much to support her hulking frame, but to guide her on their way up the trail. After a few minutes of the trio staggering to and fro, Fernandez made reference to the familiarity of their situation, and that their roles had now become wasteland nurses. A sharp whistle reverberated through the ravine ceasing her chatter. Their eyes darted around for the origin of the sound until Haywood spotted the familiar spindly outline of Vitus in the rocks above them. He signalled for them to continue up the trail and disappeared behind the precipice.

 _Where do you think he got to?_ Asked Fernandez.

 _I don't know, but you know what? I'm glad to see him._

They continued slowly up the trail until they came to a path that snaked up the mountainside. Vitus was making his way down, and they rested until he had met them at the bottom.

 _Is it ok?_ He asked regarding Gabby.

 _She needs help._

 _If you are able to we must go up this way._

 _I can walk. Please._ Gabby continued onwards alone up the trail as the rest followed carefully.

 _Where the fuck have you been?_ Fernandez interrogated.

 _I warned you not to fire, Captain._

 _We didn't have much of a choice._ Replied Haywood.

 _My brothers would be ashamed, but I ran. Scared. Then I almost came upon the sicorium._

 _Did you know about them?_

 _No, but I'm not surprised that they are here. I am now damnatio memoriae – condemned for my betrayal._

 _You could have at least warned us of the possibility._

 _I'm sorry, but I thought no one would follow us into the mountains. Now that they are here…_

 _Don't worry, we took care of them._

 _Unless you have killed them all they will not stop. The sicorium never surrender, failure is not an option in the eyes of Caesar._

 _So, where are we going?_

 _So, I escaped by climbing up the canyon wall._

 _You can climb that?_ Interjected Fernandez.

 _Of course, I can ascend the Mighty Scar of Arizona if asked to._ He boasted. _Anyway, I then doubled back on the ridge trying to find you from above. However, I recalled a place that may offer shelter from the sicorium and allow the beast to rest._

 _Where?_

 _The haunted tunnels._


	6. Act 2 - Part 2

_**Part 2 - Vault 39**_

Vitus revealed that it was the tribals who had once lived in the Kofa mountains, before they became Legion, told stories of spirits that would roam the Sierra. Caesar instilled a religious cult throughout his legions, eradicating superstition from the oral tribal customs and naming himself the Son of Mars, to be both revered and feared, but try as he might the old ways would prevail. The Legion avoided the area as it served no strategic value, but the younger recruits viewed this as evidence that there was in fact, some truth to the legends. The network of tunnels under the mountains was said to be the origin of these spirits, and Vitus surmised, in hope rather than expectation, that they could lose the sicariorum within, by means of irrationality or navigation.

Upon reaching the summit, Gabby was evidently exhibiting symptoms from her battle with the deathclaw. Her breathing was laboured, her bleeding constant, her movements slow and difficult. Haywood suggested that they should rest, but Vitus urged them to continue onwards; it was not far from where he had seen the entrance to the underground. However, due to her slow progress, Gabby suggested that they leave her behind, which would allow them to make a break from the mountains, avoiding the risk of being cornered by their pursuers. Haywood protested, stating that they could easily repel the assassins again if need be. Vitus warned that although they may have succeeded in surprising them initially, the odds of this happening again would be remote. In any case, they would continue to track them across open ground, therefore, their best bet was to lose them underground.

 _Where exactly are you taking us?_ Asked Haywood.

 _Where the men of old used to work. They looked for the aureus._

 _What the hell is that?_

 _The currency, the… gold._

 _Give me a good old-fashioned hub-buck any day._ Fernandez remarked wistfully.

 _You mean a gold mine?_

 _Yes._

 _And you've been in these mines?_

 _Not exactly…_

 _Wait a minute._ She placed the back of her hand on his chest; a physical signal indicating for him to stop. _Don't tell me that you believe they're haunted?_

 _The spirits are all around us. Some are wrathful, others less so. I would not go alone but… I'm not afraid if you're here._

Vitus continued onwards, brushing past her outstretched arm.

 _D'aww, I think he likes you, Skip._

Haywood exhaled a heavy sigh. A superstitious scout and an injured super-mutant; maybe Fernandez was right - that they'd have been better off alone. Following Vitus, they made their way across the ridge until they came to a rusted railway line. It snaked along the barren and dusty plateau, in one direction it disappeared over the other side of the mountain, whilst the other route led into an opening further into the mountain. The entrance façade was braced with decrepit wooden supports and a sign, bent and rusted, that read DANGER - RISK OF CAVE IN. They paused momentarily, silently debating whether they should enter. Haywood, concerned about Gabby, volunteered without a word for point duty, using Law-bringer's affixed artificial torch to light the way.

They followed the rail into the shaft, past rusting carts and dilapidated columns, searching for an area where the tunnel would open up, allowing them to pause and rest. Fernandez cautioned that the whole structure may collapse at any time - not a helpful observation to make at this time, thought Haywood. Law-bringer's light invaded the darkness ahead, paving a way for their safety. The light highlighted an oddity within the tunnel: the rail suddenly came to an abrupt end. Not sheared off or covered by dust, or even periodically missing; just ending in the middle of the tunnel, a mere distance from the entrance.

 _That's odd. The rail just ends here._

 _What's odd about that?_ Asked Fernandez.

 _We're barely into the mine. I doubt the miners would carry the gold up to the entrance._

 _Maybe someone removed it?_

 _Maybe…_

They continued along until the torch failed to detect the walls ahead. Confused, Haywood paused bringing the group to a halt.

 _What's wrong?_ Asked Vitus.

 _I'm not sure. I think maybe the tunnel opens up here._

Making her way forwards she was proved correct. The mine opened up into a vast ante-chamber, so large that Law-bringer was unable to explore the surrounding walls and ceiling. It did, however, bring to light a raised concrete platform ahead of the party. Haywood reached the base of this podium and her light found the far-side wall, indicating a metallic smooth contour that altered in shape as she examined it further along. An immense rippled circle came into view and within its centre an emboldened number in a corroded yellowish colour: 39.

Haywood knew instantly what she had found: a vault – built from the pre-war days to protect the fortunate from the bombs above. The vaults were revered in the Republic due to their contributions in the founding of the capital of the NCR, and the appropriately named Vault City, but many rumours persisted regarding their original purpose, that the Vault-Tec Corporation had other designs in their original implementation.

 _It's a vault._

 _You're fucking kidding me._ Remarked Fernandez making her way to Haywood's side. _One of those death traps?_

 _If people are still alive inside, they may be able to provide medical assistance._

 _That's assuming they're friendly._

 _We have no choice, come on let's have a look around for an intercom or something._

Haywood and Fernandez ascended steel stairs that led up to the platform. Vitus remained behind, confused and slightly apprehensive of the looming steel doorway; unaware of their very existence and concerned over what may lay beyond. Gabby meanwhile, took the opportunity to rest on the steel bannisters of the stairs. Haywood located a console of buttons and levers near the doorway. Computers and technology were not a particular strength of Haywood's, furthermore, she could only be assisted by a former tribal who was unfamiliar with the concept of terminals, an injured super mutant, and a technophobe in Fernandez, but a pre-war ghoul nonetheless who might on the off chance have relevant memory to call upon.

 _Do you know what any of this does?_

 _No fucking clue. Just press them all._

Haywood concluded that it was a plan, their only plan, and therefore their best plan, and so, proceeded to press every button and pull each lever on the console. Each negated in response - a "click" or a reset. Finally, she came to a large red button, which when pressed kicked the console into life, as dials and switches lighted up accompanied by a chorus of beeps and tunes. A received voice echoed from the console speaker.

 _Welcome to Vault-Tec underground facility number thirty-nine. Please state your security password, or key in your security code into the console now, using your assigned pip-boy._

Haywood froze for a moment, unsure what response, if any, would be most appropriate.

 _Uh… my name is Captain…_

Before she could finish, a deafening siren rang aloud in conjunction with an orange spiralling light, illuminating the ante-chamber. The great entrance howled and screamed to life; the circular door shifted out of its groove back into the vault itself. A gust of compressed air from within met them, as the door rolled over to its side and out of sight. A blinding light from the vault interior briefly dazzled Haywood until her eyes could adjust. Once the door had settled into place, the light and siren ceased simultaneously. Haywood led by example, and advanced inside, as the rest followed in tow.

A large lobby greeted them, made of pristine bluish metallic walls, empty save for a large counter on the far side, which was occupied by an unfamiliar figure. Before she could react or determine its origin, it seemed to wheel its way out from behind the counter towards them.

 _Welcome volunteers! It's good to see some fresh faces!_

The delivery was cheery and upbeat; vocals of a human male, yet possessing a robotic tone.

 _Uh, hi. The… door just opened…_ Began Haywood.

 _Yes, I heard you on the intercom. I'm happy that someone has finally come to take part. Please head into the experimentation wing on your right for processing._

Haywood tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Its "feet" had the same look of the old-world war vehicles that had been left disabled in the army bases throughout California – tanks as they were once known as. The arms were long and malleable, including metallic pincers which acted as hands, yet the head was its most astonishing feature: a brain – human she believed – encased in a glass dome.

 _Um, we're not here for that, our friend is… injured and needs medical help._ She continued slowly.

 _Ah, then you should talk to our Auto-Doc: PD Shoot. You'll find him in the medical wing through the door on your left, down the corridor, first door on your right._

 _Ok, thanks... what do I call you…?_

 _Oh, where are my manners! I am Observation Vehicle and Executive Robotic Sentient for Exploratory and Experimental Research, or O.V.E.R.S.E.E.R!_

 _It's a robobrain._ Ascertained Fernandez. _I remember them from before the war, never seen one in person. Half human, half machine._

 _You are correct, Madam. Yet, I am unaware of any conflict. In any case, I'll be happy to escort you to the medical wing after I close the entrance._

 _Hold on. Would you mind leaving it open? S_ aid Haywood.

 _What's the matter?_ Asked Fernandez.

 _I don't like the idea of being sealed inside here._

 _Agreed, but what if they're still following us?_

 _Guard the entrance, the moment you see or hear anything fall back._

 _This is a FUBAR situation, Skipper._

 _Once Gabby is cared for, we'll discuss next steps._

Haywood gave Fernandez a nod of assurance and then asked the robobrain to lead the way. The machine propelled itself towards the direction it had previously indicated, and the door automatically hissed open vertically upon approach. Beyond lay a long corridor as pristine as the lobby they were leaving. Haywood held out an arm, poised in the event of Gabby collapsing, yet in reality, it would be of very little practical use if this actuality occurred, but nevertheless provided an emotional sentiment of support.

Wearily, they made their way down to the medical wing entrance, Vitus following cautiously. The door to the medical bay whistled open in the same manner as the one previously. Gurney's lined the room within, each attached with a mixture of intravenous drips. In the corner was a large cylinder, that reminded Haywood of the pre-war Pulowski preservation shelter's that could be found on street corners in the old-world cities, but she recognised it as an auto-doc - a medical machine that functioned as a doctor and surgeon in one – due to the fact that El Centro had its own functioning version within its medical bay.

A Mister Handy – a civilian version of the Mister Gutsy robot - was making its rounds among the beds, tending to non-existent patients. It greeted the newcomers in a strained electronic refined English accent, interchanging between loud panic and gentle composure.

 _ARGH! I'm PD Shoot. WHAT DO YOU WANT? And how may I serve you this day?_

 _Our… our friend needs help._ Haywood indicated to Gabby.

 _Let me have a look. DON'T KILL ME!_

 _I'm not going to do anything. What is wrong with that thing?_ Haywood asked the robobrain.

 _PD Shoot forgets himself sometimes. Relax PD, these are friends._

The Mister Handy hovered forwards and began a scan from one of its "eyes" on the patient before him.

 _Foreign substance detected. Multiple lacerations, internal and external bleeding, damaged tissue – diagnosis: 100 percent. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! Treatment success: 100 percent. Please step into the auto-doc in the corner of the room for further treatment, as I'm not qualified for procedures on an individual of your… err size. PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I'M SUCH A FAILURE._

Gabby glanced at the others before proceeding into the large tube that had opened up for its patient. The cylinder closed behind her and a soft whirring sound began.

 _We should not stay here. This place is unholy._ Vitus whispered.

Haywood, agreed with the sentiment, although not necessarily with the superstition. These machines appeared to have gone loco, as Fernandez would say, and they were fairly trusting of their new guests. Yet, most concerning was the lack of people present in the vault.

 _Where is everyone?_ Haywood asked the robobrain.

 _Only I and PD Shoot remain. All previous citizens, "volunteers" and Vault-Tec employees, left on their own accord many years ago, after the completion of the project._

 _Project?_

 _Yes, this vault was built between 2066 and 2075 for the purpose of housing residents of the city of Phoenix in the avoidable, yet statistically likely event, of a global thermal nuclear exchange. However, the true purpose of the vault's facilities was for intravenous experimentation to test a prototype stealth serum on the vault "volunteers", but that's top-secret._

 _What? A stealth serum?_

 _Yes, my programming dictates that "volunteers" were to be subjected to the sample, but it was clear through physical, mental and verbal analysis, that these individuals were not wholly aware of the nature of the experiment that was being administered. Naturally, I became confused with the definition of volunteer, and so, to be safer than sorry, I ensured that all essential and non-essential personnel should be submitted to the tests._

That explained the roaming "ghosts" thought Haywood.

 _How did you administer these tests?_

 _By applying the serum during routine and emergency examinations in the medical facility._

 _What?! Are you injecting our friend right now?_

 _I… Oh dear, you see I do get confused. Was she not a volunteer? But she must be if she is here. PD are you injecting that human, who is clearly not a human?_

 _WHAT? ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? It shouldn't be much longer ladies and gentlemen._

 _Get her out of there, now!_ Ordered Haywood.

 _I can't do that, not until I've finished patching it – err her, up. OH, WHY WON'T YOU LET ME FINISH!? Interrupting now could induce the victim, I mean patient, into a coma._

 _Well, what does the serum do?_

 _Apart from the ability to refract light, side effects include onset memory loss, occasional moments of induced rage, and the possibility of being misplaced by others._ Explained the robobrain.

 _It, err, she, is very big, though. Maybe it won't be so bad. I'M SO SORRY!_

 _How much longer?_

 _Shouldn't be much longer. Can I interest you in some tea?_

Gunshots reverberated down the corridor from the lobby. Without hesitation, Haywood made for the door and down the corridor to assist her friend, fearing the worst. The door at the end of the hall opened, revealing Gaius - the coyote head man - holding a wounded Fernandez at the mercy of his sword.

 _I'm sorry Skip, they got the jump on me..._

 _Quiet!_ Gaius silenced his captive. _Captain, please place your weapon on the floor._

After a brief moment, Haywood obeyed. Three legionaries stepped through the doorway, their rifles at the ready, one of whom removed Law-bringer from the floor and proceeded to take the owner hostage.

 _Now, where is Vitus?_

 _He's in the medical wing._

 _Then lead on._

The six entered through the door, two legionaries first, followed by their two captives, and finally Gaius and the remaining legionary. The robobrain made an effort to welcome the newcomers, but Gaius brought his sword down upon it in a single blow, causing it to fall backwards.

 _How rude._ It commented as it lay prone.

There wa _s_ no sign of Vitus, but after his name was called, he emerged slowly from behind a gurney at the rear of the room from where he had been hiding.

 _Ah, there you are. All of you, on your knees before me if you please._

The three obeyed, their hands raised, averting their gaze from their captors.

Haywood enquired after Fernandez's welfare, but in response was struck across the face by one of the legionaries.

 _Speak only when spoken to. Where's your beast?_ Asked Gaius slightly perplexed.

 _We lost her to a deathclaw in the canyon._ Lied Haywood, remaining focused on the unspoilt floor before her.

 _Odd, your tracks indicate otherwise._

Gaius became aware of PD Shoot and then the cylinder within the room.

 _You, open that machine._

PD Shoot obeyed, but upon the cylinder's opening, there was nothing to be seen within. Gaius sighed through his nostrils.

 _Acario, watch the door._

The legionary obeyed as the other two continued to guard their hostages. Gaius pointed his sword at Haywood.

 _So, here we have the bear-warrior. I'm assuming you did this to me._ Indicating his injured left arm. _You have spirit. You'll make a fine slave; after we break you in, of course._

Haywood raised her head slowly to greet him with a piercing stare. He smiled and continued down the line of prisoners.

 _The traitor._

He bent down onto his haunches and forcefully occupied Vitus' line of sight.

 _Hello Vitus, we've been looking for you. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. I'm to deliver you personally to Centurion Ungala. He has something special lined up for traitors._

Vitus began to tremble slightly.

 _You're pathetic. A disgrace to the Legion. It makes me sick just to look at you, but orders are orders. And the Centurion needs to feed._

He rose and studied Fernandez.

 _This dead walker, however, must be dealt with. Not worthy enough to be a slave, below the dissolute even. Your charred corpse should long be rotting in the ground._

Fernandez raised her head and narrowed her eyes at the coyote face which rested upon his forehead.

 _So, I gotta ask, what's the deal with you? Are you so ugly you have to hide under the skin of an animal?_

Gaius didn't respond initially to Fernandez's insult, instead, he waited a moment and then proceeded to raise his sword, bringing it down at an angle onto her neck, enough to decapitate her ancient body from her head. Haywood leapt into him, grabbing him by his tunic.

 _I'm going to fucking destroy you._ She spat and screamed.

Gaius responded, striking the hilt into her face, causing her to reel onto the floor.

 _You need to learn some manners, girl._

As soon as he had finished his remark, one of his legionaries levitated in the air, screaming for help, only to be split in half a moment later.

 _The ghosts!_ Exclaimed the other legionary, dropping his guard as he witnessed the horror.

The legionary on guard came to assist, firing wildly in the direction of the kill, but his head caved in after he had discharged a few rounds. Gaius dropped his sword in confused panic, making his way to the exit. Haywood retrieved his sword, and by circumnavigating behind the stunned final legionary, she fatally pierced the sword into his back. Withdrawing it, she collected Fernandez rifle from the dead legionary and pursued her last victim.

 _Captain!_ Vitus called after her.

Gaius, having made it to the lobby, was almost at the vault entrance as Haywood emerged from the corridor, she opened fired one-handed, aiming purposefully for his legs, and in striking him successfully he stumbled forwards. She released the gun and walked calmly towards the wailing legionary. Vitus entered the lobby to witness the events unfold. Gaius turned onto his back and raised his hands in surrender.

 _No, please! Mercy! I was only following orders._ He pleaded.

Haywood grabbed him by the coyote cowl and in one movement opened his throat with his own sword. The man gasped and gurgled as blood poured onto his chest. She released him, as he bled out onto the immaculate marble of the vault. She dropped the sword turning to Vitus, who remained still.

 _Captain, I…_

Without a word, she passed him, retrieving Fernandez's weapon, before making her way back to the medical wing.

* * *

Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Fernandez's body lay on the gurney before her, undercover, her rifle placed atop. The medical bay was empty, aside from her, a request from Haywood before she left the vault for good, in order to say farewell to her comrade. Haywood released her gaze from the body to the dog tag that she held intently in her hand. A tear escaped down her scarred cheek, but she quickly erased its existence.

Her mind was racing: So stupid, too many mistakes, too many variables. She should have closed the door behind them. The legionaries must have known about this place; the layout and how to approach the entrance way. Vitus, on the other hand, had led them to a dead end, and his answer was to cower. A part of her felt aggrieved at the shittiness of the situation, that perhaps there was no one to blame. Fernandez's life, though, was worth more than that, and Vitus had been running from threats before they had even met him. She had so much hate and anger to give.

On the other hand, Gabby had now saved them for the second time, and her reward was quarantine. PD Shoot remarked that despite her ability to display cognitive control, the serum could invoke unexpected moments of aggression without discerning between individuals. To Haywood's surprise, Gabby obliged, weary and overwhelmed by the events that had taken place that day. She was tired of death, of wanting to enact revenge, that was failing to sate an appetite growing within her. The world rejected her, and she was feeling lost without a home. She had promised herself that Sunrise would be the end of her journey, and was prepared to protect her fellow settlers. However, she had now come to terms that there was no defeating the barbarism of the Legion, at least not with violence. Haywood remarked that she had lost a friend to violence, and another to pacifism in one day.

 _We all knew the risks of this mission. Fernandez especially, she was a soldier. Vitus, he's unprepared for what's coming, but he won't stop to save his friend. He's made mistakes, and he'll continue to do so. If you continue to follow him then you will pay with your life. You're a soldier, I get that, but there are other ways to save people; to be more useful._

Haywood pondered these words that Gabby had parted upon her through an intercom after she had been placed in isolation. Haywood disclosed the information on the holotape to her, stating that duty was now only a secondary consideration. Gabby relented, yet reminded her that Vitus may have been of the Legion once, but was by no means typical of them and that any ill feeling towards him should be kept aside if they were to succeed.

Haywood set her hand on the soft sheet before her. She wanted to say something, but there was nothing left to say. Without a word, she headed for the door.


	7. Act 2 - Part 3

_**Part 3 - Plomosa**_

Silence had befallen the two remaining members of the party since their departure from Vault 39. Nightfall had beset the desert as they made their way to the northern extreme of the mountain range; the plains below extended and disappeared into the darkness before them. Somewhere out there was Quartzsite - their final destination. Haywood raised a hand to her eyes, pressing hard into the sockets, in a vain attempt to remove her tiredness. Vitus, who was on point, as usual, turned and stopped when he had noticed that his company had paused.

 _Captain, there is no need for you to continue._

Haywood, on hearing this plea, removed her hand to scrutinise the exiled legionary.

 _What the fuck did you just say?_ She retorted, in partial disbelief.

 _Do not feel you have to come with me._

 _Are you fucking kidding me? We've walked hundreds of miles through hostile territory. We've fought a bear and a deathclaw._

She took a step closer, raising her voice.

 _Fought those assassins you call brothers. Gabby may lose her mind, and I've lost my best friend._

She paused, averting her gaze briefly before composing herself somewhat, once more making eye contact.

 _And you want me to just walk home?_

 _I only mean…_

 _I have a mission, and I'm going to finish it. When I'm done, the Legion will shit themselves every time they hear the letters N.C.R._

Haywood advanced again so that they were within arm's length of each other. Her voice was hushed but severe.

 _I could just leave you on the side of the road, broken and gasping for air, but for now, I need you. So, count yourself lucky._

Brushing past him, she continued ahead, on her way down the mountainside.

* * *

 _What is this place?_

The explorer had guided her to a stone structure that pathetically imitated a building. Rusted corrugated sheets of steel functioned as some form of a roof, whilst openings within the walls desperately aspired to be windows.

 _This is where men from old used to stay between going underground._ Answered the explorer.

 _Mines? More fucking mines?_ Haywood grunted.

 _I didn't mean to head within, just rest in the building. Until morning._

 _Wouldn't entering the camp at night be more ideal?_ She queried aggressively.

 _They may suspect us more, and we need to talk._

 _We need to talk?_ She mimicked with surprise.

 _Yes, to discuss a plan._

He was right, and this truth angered Haywood further.

 _Fine._

Haywood entered the shack of masonry, whilst the explorer volunteered to collect wood for a fire. She studied her surroundings in the fading light: any flooring this place may have had had long disappeared, instead, clumps of desert weeds struggled for life through the desert ground. The place seemed to be insulting her. She cast her pack onto the floor, and gently placed Law-bringer against a wall. She crumpled her exhausted legs and collapsed to the ground, resting her head on her pack. She retrieved her canteen, taking a satisfying sip. The ugly ceiling berated her existence, so she closed her eyes, trying desperately to think of a distraction. All she could feel was anger; resentment and hate. She recalled Gabby's warning - there was nothing that could satisfy the pain.

Her thoughts wandered to her parents back in Junktown; making do and making by. They were accustomed to having to wait long intervals with little to no contact with their daughter, sometimes for months on end. It was the nature of the Rangers; those who made the cut and graduated to the corp knew of the implications that this could bring to the well-being of family life, but the health of the nation came first. They never asked her about her tours of duty, and she avoided such discussions, but she often speculated that the impression she gave was of mundane patrols on the Colorado River border, or the wilds of Oregon, or the sands of Baja; politely policing and providing assistance to settlers and citizens. Now, here she was, with fifty-nine confirmed kills and more unaccounted for, lying in the middle of the Arizona. So many lives she had ended in the name of peace.

If, or rather when, she would end the life of the monster tomorrow, then the only regret would be that there was no one present to verify it. She imagined a legacy, a gift to her parents, that the name Haywood would become a legend of vengeance throughout the Legion for years to come. A warning that their acts of barbarity would have consequences. She allowed herself a smile, but the consideration of the other target sobered her. Her hatred for Vitus should have made the thought easier; she would take no pleasure in it, but he would find out what it's like to lose someone close. At the back of her mind, though, she thought of the crosses and the embers of Sunrise; the fates of the dead and the living.

The explorer returned, arms full of dry dead wood. He unloaded his collection onto the floor within the middle of their new abode and commenced to assemble a campfire.

 _We can't do that. They'll see it._ Stated Haywood flatly without moving.

 _They won't send out a patrol._

 _Why not?_

 _There is no need. Fires are either traders or legionaries._

Haywood, confused, opened her eyes and turned her head towards him to make sense of this statement. He continued to busy himself and was successful in kindling a fire.

 _What do you mean? Why would only traders and legionaries' light fires?_

He looked across his creation to meet Haywood's gaze.

 _Because there is no one else._

Haywood raised herself onto her elbow.

 _What? What do you mean? What about settlers, pioneers, raiders?_

 _No, the Legion takes all. There is only Legion and those that are allowed._

So, the rumours were true. Peace, Haywood thought. They had established peace, whilst the NCR battled with raiders, gangsters, rebels, slavers, Enclave and Brotherhood remnants, feral ghouls, unstable supermutants, and people who were perhaps just having a bad day.

 _Unbelievable._ She sighed as she set herself down again, stroking her brow.

 _Without order, there can be no peace._

 _Tell me about it. What I don't understand, is how so many people can allow themselves to be enslaved, and how people like you allow it._

 _My family is not perfect. I know that. But in many respects, we're no different to NCR._

Haywood sat up once more.

 _What the fuck did you say?_

 _I told you. I saw what your people did in Bullhead. No one was left alive._

 _That's different. They were raiders._

 _Raiders to you. To us they have potential._

 _What as slaves?_

 _Maybe, or as soldiers. But everyone serves a purpose._

 _Yeah, everyone serves your leader, right? Remind me, what do you call him?_

 _Caesar._

 _That's an old-world name, isn't it? Your people are just repeating history, that's all it is._

 _No, he is the son of Mars, conqueror of the eighty-six tribes…_

 _By the Vault Dweller; you really believe all that? So now that you've angered the almighty, do you think he'll just forgive you? Let you run around like his dog, searching for more people to kill and enslave._

The man looked deep into the flames.

 _It is of no consequence what happens to me. Only Stars matters now._

 _Yeah, sure, and I guess I'm dispensable too._

Haywood lay onto her side, turning away from the burning embers.

 _Why else would you be here? You have no family here. Only your mission._

Haywood couldn't believe what she was hearing. The nerve of the man. He had no idea of the situation. Enough was enough. She rolled over and sat up.

 _You know why I'm here? To kill that wannabe deathclaw freak, sure, but that holodisk you have, that one which you can't listen to because you're too fucking stupid, it's that man you knew, warning us that if the Legion get their hands onto those… those things you call metal soldiers, then we will lose, not just the NCR, but every living thing above the ground, we'll all lose because we'll all turn into you. A clueless servant for people that only believe in killing._

 _No._

 _Yes, it's true._

 _Stars said that it would save the Legion_ _ **.**_

 _She just told you that to get you on side, because she couldn't trust you._

 _No, it's not true._

 _Yeah, ignore it all you want. That's what you're best at._

Haywood took another swig from her canteen.

 _It is impossible because we do not use technology._

 _Listen, I know that you people like to dress up as animals, but even your Caesar won't pass up an opportunity like that._

 _You don't understand. It's forbidden from our ways. We must remain pure and driven. If we do not, then we become nothing, and we serve nothing. Nequam._

Haywood eyed him cautiously. She was not convinced, but it was an odd attitude and defence to take. She thought about what she had said - it was harsh to label him as a mere servant. He had not given up on his friend after everything. She calmed herself down, it was not befitting an officer to take such an attitude when she would need him focused on tomorrow's mission.

 _Look, I'm sorry. What you're doing for your friend is very noble. Here, have a drink._

She tossed over the canteen, and he obliged, coughing after he had finished. He retrieved some horsetail from his sack and offered it in return. She examined it carefully.

 _Do not worry, I have not drugged this._

He proved this by taking a bite. She took some and began gnawing away.

 _How did you drug us?_ She mumbled through her bites.

 _Crushed valerian, sprinkled on horsetail. A concoction that we learn to aid sleep in difficult climates._

Haywood gently nodded.

 _So, Vitus, what's your plan?_ She asked.

 _Well,_ he sighed. _I must pose as someone who wishes to buy slaves. I was thinking of using you as evidence that I capture and sell them._

 _Okay, hold on. Are they gonna believe that you captured me? I mean no offence, but you're not exactly made of muscle. Also, won't they recognise you?_

 _Woman are not well considered. You may be strong, but to them, you will always be weak. They have many who come and go, as long as I avoid the Despoiler's men, I will go unnoticed, and by bringing you I can prove I am worthy to buy._

 _Are you allowed to buy a slave?_

 _Of course, it is expected for me to buy a wife._

 _Buy a wife?_ Haywood repeated these words carefully.

 _Yes, we must reproduce for future legionaries and slaves._

 _You're not thinking of doing this to Walk, erm, Stars, are you?_

 _No, like I said, she deserves to be free, to continue the legacy of the tribe._

 _You've got a strange idea of how the world works. Anyway, so we walk in, and you buy her?_

 _Well, it's not as simple as that. They have to examine you before placing you in the slave pen._

 _What?_

 _Just to see if you are physically able. Once that is done, then you be slave worthy._

 _Oh, fantastic._

 _Also, I have no money._

 _You're not thinking of what I think you're thinking?_

 _You are resourceful. You can find a way to get out._

 _Right. There are three things wrong with this plan: One, I need you to identify Ungala to me so I can kill him. Two, I would rather like to speak to this friend of yours, and three, locked up in a slave pen with no weapon, as you two walk out the front door hand in hand, kinda negates points one and two._

 _Well, a slave swap is our only choice to get her out._

 _Why can't you just identify Ungala so I can kill him? In all the chaos, you can go in and rescue her. I've seen it happen to raider gangs plenty of times before - once the boss is dead, then they all run around like headless Brahmin._

 _The slave pen will be locked and guarded._

 _Okay, so we need to get both her and myself out, then kill Mr Lizard._

Haywood took a moment of contemplation, resting her head on her fingers. Maybe, if she could get to this Stars person in the slave pen first, she could find a way of ridding her, fooling Vitus into thinking that she had died already, and having no option but to take her back as a "slave". Then she could make him, at gunpoint if necessary, identify Ungala from a distance. Messy, and many things could go wrong, and she'd likely miss the opportunity to eliminate Ungala, but for now Stars was the priority. The danger was that once she had killed Stars, Vitus might sell her out to the Legion. There was no alternative, however, to get close to her. If only Fernandez was here, then they could have worked on both targets simultaneously…

 _How about this. Once I get in, are you able to pretend to look around for slaves, giving me time to talk to Stars?_

 _If you must talk with her, but you will still be locked in._

 _Well, like you said I'm resourceful, I'm sure I can find some way of getting out. But you two will have to wait nearby so we can get rid of Ungala._

 _Of course._

 _Now, you're sure there is only one pen?_

 _Yes, it is the great slave pen of Arizona. It is the biggest in all Legion territory._

 _So, how do I find her - what does she look like?_

 _She has braided hair, a symbol of our tribe._

 _And…_

 _And?_

 _How old is she, is she your age?_

 _Yes._

 _Okay, what does her face look like?_

 _White._

 _Okay, you're not good at this describing thing. What marks her out? Does she have any tattoos or any scars like mine?_

Vitus shook his head slightly but then spoke softly as if remembering something distant.

 _Her hair is the colour of sand mixed with dirt._

 _Jeez man, you got to work at this. That kind of talk can crush a girl._

 _Her hand._

 _Her hand?_

 _Yes, when we were young she reached into a fire and burned it. She now has creases on her skin, but very slight on the inside._

 _Great, so I just have to ask every young woman if I can look at their palms. What if... what if she isn't there?_

 _What do you mean?_

 _What if you're wrong, and she was taken somewhere else or sold on already, or that she, you know, didn't make it._

 _That is not possible._

 _Why?_

 _Because I know._

 _Okay, but say you're wrong. And I'm stuck in there. Will you get me out?_

Vitus was silent for a moment, his eyes measuring hers across the fire.

 _If she is not there, then we will look elsewhere, but there is no other place she can be._

 _You're not listening._

Vitus stood quickly raising his voice.

 _What you say is mistaken. Stars is there and she is alive. I will not allow her to die. The souls of my ancestors will ensure it. They do not allow the pure to die, not until they have proved their purpose in life. You may be weak spirited, but I am strong._

 _Huh, how convenient for you. To choose your Gods when it suits you. To choose who may live and die. To choose when to be strong._

 _I meant no disrespect..._

 _Oh really? For someone who is acting so tough right now, I've seen very little of it over the last few days. Gabby, you remember - the supermutant, the one who you ignored because she was different from you. She saved us twice and she was never under any orders or was having to save someone due to her own failures. And what have you done but to run and hide? Alicia would be alive if not for you. You said we'd be safe, that they wouldn't follow us, you didn't even warn us of the risk of being followed. I put my trust in you, for the sake of the mission, and now she's dead._

Haywood maintained eye contact for a moment, before she turned back over onto her side, hiding once again from the flames.

 _You're right…_

 _I don't want to hear it._

Vitus dropped his gaze and proceeded to leave the shelter. Haywood lay there, wanting the day to end, wanting her pain to end. Before she fell asleep, she was reminded of that night she first met Vitus in Progreso, where distrust and questions abounded.

* * *

They were stood on the unstable roof of the shack under the morning sun. The settlement of Quartzsite was a visible haze on the horizon.

 _Maybe you can shoot The Despoiler from here?_ Suggested Vitus.

 _That's a fucking stupid idea. It's miles away._

Haywood took a sight through her scope identifying the outline of a building that was markedly taller than those surrounding it.

 _What's that building?_ Haywood asked.

 _It's an old temple, where they used to pray._

 _A church? Do the Legion use it?_

 _It is unholy to use…_

 _Okay, I got it. Maybe we can use the steeple._  
 _  
That is possible, it is on the outskirts of the encampment._  
 _  
Perfect, we'll head there first, and sneak the rifle into the tower, which will give us a viewpoint of the whole town._

They descended from their vantage point and Haywood began to gather her belongings.

 _We must…_ Vitus paused before continuing.

 _What?_

 _You do not look... broken._

 _Broken?_

 _It must look like I have captured you. That I have defeated you._

 _You mean you want to hit me? Okay, then hit me._

Vitus struck her softly.

 _You serious? I've seen Followers hit harder than you._

Vitus retracted his fist, striking her again. It hurt this time and Haywood stumbled slightly. She rubbed her chin and scoffed.

 _Is that the best you got? Let me show you how it's done._

Haywood threw a punch and Vitus was stunned. She struck him again and he fell onto his back. She grabbed his shirt and threatened another salvo. He cowered slightly and shut his eyes.

 _You're pathetic, you know that?_

Haywood released him, removed her coat and hat, smothering some sand onto her face. Vitus slowly regained his footing.

 _Anything else? Shall I call you master?_

 _Just, try not to talk much._

 _Me? I'll be quiet as mute-mouse. And here..._

Haywood handed him Law-bringer.

 _Just in case they stop us. DON'T drop her. Or I'll drop you again._

Vitus retrieved some rope from his sack, pushing it towards her - a request for her to extend her arms.

 _Carrying rope in your bag? Planning on hanging yourself sometime soon?_

Vitus remained silent, and she obliged, allowing him to bound her wrists. He turned, pulling at the rope for her to follow. Haywood obeyed, and for a moment, the situation dawned upon her, and a fear that by complying so easily she had inadvertently allowed herself to be defeated, that soon gave way to relief, that maybe now all her misgivings were behind her.


	8. Act 2 - Part 4

_**Part 4: Quartzsite**_

 _Halt! Who goes there?_

The sentry on duty had his arm outstretched; a submachine gun was slung casually over his shoulder. Having spotted the two strangers from a distance, he had waited until they were within speaking range before he had ordered them to stop. Vitus obeyed, and Haywood, still concatenated with her false captor, followed suit. Immediately she could determine the lackadaisical approach they had towards security. Beyond the sentry lay the encampment itself, which possessed no barricade; rather, isolated stockades functioned as watchtowers, dotted at intervals on the perimeter.

 _Ave, I am Speculatore Vitus._

 _Ave Speculatore. What business do you have here?_

 _I have come to trade; to obtain a wife._

The sentry closed in on them. Haywood studied the nearest defence: the watch consisted of two men armed only with spears, peering over the hastily arranged stockade at the new arrivals. Vitus was either correct in his analysis of the apparent minimal threats within Arizona, or they were strategically very poor when considering the construction of their defences.

 _Who is this?_ Asked the sentry as he regarded Haywood.

 _My capture._

Haywood cowered purposefully, lowering her eyes. The sentry considered her for a moment and then, nodded to Vitus; allowing him entry with an exchange of "True to Caesar".

Haywood glanced back towards the church from which they had just departed. The inside of which was as dilapidated and unused as Vitus had claimed. Shards of stained glass were scattered across the floor of the nave, and Haywood collected a sharp fragment hiding it on her person. In the face of Vitus' protestations, she argued in favour of some form of insurance in case events went south. If however, they were to find it on her when she was searched, Vitus claimed that it would be he who would suffer. All the better, she retorted.

They had made their way up the ageing staircase to the steeple, which gave them a clear view in all directions; the long-absent window panes that once formed a glass box beneath the spire itself had since collapsed. Northwards, they could see several derelict buildings which then gave way to numerous tents surrounding a large fenced off area, occupied by hundreds of moving figures. Their position was closer than she had previously thought, meaning that although a kill would be easier from such a short distance, it would also result in Legion forces instantly swarming the building soon after the fact. Only a quick get away from the rooftop, hopefully avoiding a sprain in the jump, could she make her way back fast enough to the shack where she had left her pack. Haywood took Law-bringer from Vitus, checked the cartridge, and then placed it carefully onto the steeple floor. After one last look at the camp, they made their way back down the stairs.

The sentry told Vitus to report to the head Slave Master, directing him to his location. Moving through the camp Haywood was now able to see the Legion war machine up close. Hundreds of recruits roamed about: some were training and busying about their routines, whilst others were entertaining themselves in any manner they sought, which resorted usually to beating the young initiates and slaves without mercy. Orders were issued and signals directed. Haywood instantly decoded the threat that they posed: they were no mere slavers or raiders - they were an army of professionals, built with discipline and moulded in fear.

Finally, they had reached an open tent gazebo; a large table was situated within its centre, covered in parchment and surrounded by several legionaries, who were seemingly more bookish than the warriors from outside. Haywood theorised that this housed the administrative headquarters of the Slaveholdings. A burly and imposing individual stood at the table, studying with apparent difficulty a paper in his hands. Vitus, recognising his rank, stood to attention as he greeted the Slave Master. The man shifted gracelessly to scrutinise the new arrival before him: a slender figure encased in desert dust, bruised, but attentive and willing. He cast his gaze to the bulkier person that accompanied him, releasing the parchment onto the table as he continued to examine her.

 _Ave legionarius, who is this?_

He pointed a stubby finger towards Haywood, who continued the pretence, as best she could, of the broken captive.

 _My captive sir, I wish to arrange a swap. For a bride._

 _What is all this?_ He asked regarding her uniform.

 _It is the attire of those from across the great river. Those of the NCR tribe._

The man turned back to Vitus.

 _Is that so? And you took her?_

 _Yes, sir, she was fetching water from the river, and I was able to seize her. The profligate did little to resist._

 _By the look of you, I think she fought harder than you give her credit. And by the looks of her, if she were a man she could be in the Pretorian guard!_

The slaver laughed, lapping up the chorus from the other administrators that obliged in recognising his amusement until he ceased abruptly and bellowed an order to an unseen individual.

 _Mark her up!_ he shouted.

A young woman in tattered robes made haste towards Haywood, a tin in the one hand and large cards tucked underneath the armpit of her other arm. She placed them on the floor before Haywood and, with a finger, she began inscribing a number with paint from the tin onto one of the wooden boards. Then, she threaded a string through some pre-drilled holes at the top, and once done, the girl stood up, placing the board over Haywood's neck, and for a moment they caught each other's gaze. Haywood remarked internally at how wretched the girl looked: head shaven, face bruised, eyes hollow, and overall emaciated. After this fleeting moment had passed, the girl retreated as quickly as she came. The Slave Master moved into Haywood's line of sight who was still regarding the departed woman with heartfelt sorrow.

 _This number; this is you now._

Haywood raised her eyes slowly to meet his.

 _What's wrong with her? Does she speak?_

 _She's a bit… soft in the head._

Haywood meaningfully directed an aggressive glance towards Vitus in defiance, who made his best effort to ignore her.

 _Take her to the pen!_

Within a moment of the order from the Slave Master, two legionaries came to collect her, untying her binds and escorting her by force.

 _Are you not… Is she not to be processed?_ Asked Vitus with confusion.

 _Later. Relax legionarius, we'll find you a wife in good time. Take a seat._

The Slave Master returned to his papers without any further regard for the new arrival. Haywood continued to elicit some form of response from Vitus but failed as she was led away to the large fenced off area. Dozens of people lined the barrier from within, their arms thrust through small openings, pleading for water, food or relief of any kind. Guards tried their best to beat them back from the perimeter, but a soldier with a feathered helmet advanced towards the scene, gladius in hand, and hacked randomly at one of the outstretched arms, causing the victim to reel back in pain as blood cascaded from the gaping wound. The other prisoners were sent scurrying as the guards erupted into a bout of laughter.

Haywood was taken to the main gate of the compound and was tossed heartlessly onto the broken concrete floor of the pit. She spluttered, and slowly raised herself to her feet. A number of bedraggled individuals had circled her. Her eyes studied as many of them as her processing power would allow: an assortment of individuals - young, old, male, and female were before her. A young man approached her.

 _Have you seen my sister? Josslyn? Josslyn Thomas?_

Before answering, a middle-aged woman presented her own query.

 _My husband, they took my husband, please._

A cacophony of noise overwhelmed her, pleading and imploring for news and information. She moved through them, gently at first, then harder as she became increasingly irate when they began to accost her physically. Eventually, she broke through their stranglehold and was faced with a picture of misery. Clusters of people, both young and old were malnourished and starving, and in some cases already dead. She heard parents screaming for their children, and children wailing for their parents.

Haywood wondered through the horror, away from the initial horde who had given up on pressing the new arrival. She passed a group of those she assumed were the Mormons of Utah as they prayed to what they called "God". A mother told her son that if he misbehaved then he would be sent to see the Devil. Ungala - the panic in Haywood gave way to rage.

 _Excuse me._

A man, greying but still able looking, with a solid yet slightly frayed voice, approached Haywood. His calm demeanour indicated an air of authority about him.

 _Ranger, right? I used to serve._

He offered his hand and Haywood took it.

 _Jacob Zhu. I was an NCR trooper during the war with the Enclave._

 _How did you end up here?_

 _I moved out here with my family when I retired. Felt like I had done my service, and wanted to make my own way. Didn't reckon for this. All I wanted was land for my brahmin and peace for my kids._

 _Your family here?_

The man delayed his response.

 _Dead. Not sure why they took me. Might have guessed I was a vet, that maybe I could be useful in some way._

 _I'm sorry._

Haywood shuffled slightly; uneasy from his revelation and unsure about the timing of her question.

 _I'm looking for someone, have you seen any survivors from Sunrise pass through?_

 _Yeah, they came in a couple of days ago. I met their Mayor. I can introduce if you like, but um, well she uh, they gave her a hard time. Come on, follow me._

Haywood accompanied the man across the pen, further away from the main entrance.

 _I thought they only took women and children._

 _Sometimes. I guess they take anyone who they deem useful. Like you, if they didn't know your significance when they took you, then they soon will. They may look stupid, but they break everyone eventually. Look around, only the weak and feeble, from as far as Dog City and the Rio Grande. Those who survive will serve some use to them. It's separating the lowest from the low. Anyone who looks like putting up a fight is put on a cross. In other words, they've kept those strong enough to work, but weak enough to obey. So, there's no chance of fighting back, despite our numbers. There she is._

A woman, isolated from the other pockets of slaves, was gently swaying in the still air. Like the girl who gave her the sign, her features were also telling of her plight. Her dark skin was heavily bruised and tufts of her raven-black hair were missing.

 _Mayor Harford, this is…_

 _Captain Haywood, NCR Rangers._

Haywood produced a hand but the Mayor responded meekly, establishing only eye contact with the ranger.

 _NCR?_ She muttered quietly. _I regret to tell you that Sunrise…_

 _I know, um, we had some reports and…_

Haywood trailed off, unsure how to convey everything that she now knew.

 _Have you a weapon, Captain?_

Haywood thought of the shard of glass that she was carrying.

 _A weapon?_

 _I'd really like it all to stop now._

 _No, I… I'm sorry._

 _Shame._

The mayor wondered from view, staggering as she went.

 _I did say she wouldn't be too helpful. May I ask what you're after?_

Haywood awoke from the daze that the Mayor's condition had had her captivated under.

 _I'm looking for someone, someone who was captured in Sunrise._

 _You've come a long way to find this person. Survivors of communities tend to stick together, at least for the first few weeks. This is where all the Sunrisers congregate. I guess your best bet is to ask around._

Haywood thanked the man for his help but would not relay any further information to him. She left him and set about asking those around her if they were from Sunrise, whilst simultaneously keeping an eye out for a woman that matched Vitus' description. The majority either ignored her or answered her with a question of their own until eventually, she came across three women, one elderly, the others of middle-age, sitting amongst themselves.

 _Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to be from Sunrise?_

 _Fuck off._ Answered one of the middle-aged women.

 _I'm looking for someone, please._

 _Unless you can give us food or water, we're not interested._ Said the other woman.

 _Walk-Among-the-Stars, do you know her?_

The two women eyed each other and shifted slightly.

 _Can't you see we're trying to keep our mother alive here?_ Said the first woman.

 _It's just information._

 _She's around here somewhere. Probably still acting the Saint._ Said the second woman.

 _What do you mean?_

 _She has some medical knowledge, or so she claims. All our doctors were taken away._

The thought dawned on Haywood that they may be unaware of what happened to the men of Sunrise.

 _Are you missing people?_

 _Are we… Are you kidding?_ The first woman scoffed. _Our children, husbands and father were taken from us. They won't tell us where. We have no water and no food and you're asking stupid questions._

 _All the men are dead._ Haywood stated with a finality. _I'm sorry._

She left them before they could impart an emotional response. She was now on the lookout for a nurse of some description, and after scanning the pen once more, she saw a sickly woman on the hard floor being cared for by a younger woman. She advanced towards them and as she neared she studied her hands, one was covering the woman's forehead and the other was holding her wrist. She caught sight of the palm of this hand and the unmistakable scarring was clear to see.

 _Walk-Among-the-Stars?_

The woman glanced briefly upwards and then instinctively looked back to her patient. After a moment, however, she took a longer view to study the stranger in detail.

 _Who are you?_ She asked perplexed.

Her features were untouched from the wasteland. Youthful and welcoming, her face was a portrait of kindness. Her hair was as Vitus had described: sandy brown and braided neatly into knots. Her voice was gentle but clear. As far as Haywood could tell, she had been left untouched by the Legion thus far, unlike the poor Mayor.

 _Vitus sent me._

The woman raised herself from her position and faced Haywood.

 _Vitus? Is he ok?_

 _Is there anywhere we can talk in private?_

 _This is as private as it will be._

Haywood took her by the arm a few steps away from her patient to an area that was slightly more isolated.

 _I'm captain Haywood of the NCR Rangers. Vitus is with me._

Her expression broke into a joyous smile and she began to tear.

 _Oh my, he did it. He got help. But what are you doing here? You should be telling your superiors…_

 _Miss Stars, from everything Vitus has told me, it's important to know everything that you know_ _from the outset_ _._

The young woman studied her carefully.

 _The information you have may be vital to the NCR, but I need to know what I'm dealing with._

 _Um, OK. Where do I start?_

 _I know about Peter Lowell, I heard his recording. Is it true? That there's a bunker in the Mojave?_

 _Yes. Listen, it's a long story. When I was young Peter came to my village..._

 _Vitus said that the Legion came._

 _Yes. We were separated during the raid. So, I hid, I hid in Peter's cave. When I was left alone, I was frightened. I waited. I thought they would find me, but no one did. After a while, I found the courage to go back to the village. I will never forget what I saw. I survived on my own for years, not sure where to go, or what to do. Then one-day Vitus shows up, I thought he was there to take me away, but he was so happy to see me. He said that he'd dishonoured me when he left me alone before and that he'd swear to protect me and therefore make it up to me._

 _I felt like I had been given a new life, so I began by looking into Peter's work. He taught me much, but I still had so much to learn. The hardest part was learning to use the terminal, we never got that far with our lessons. Then about a year ago, I broke an encryption which allowed me access to everything. I found the message he left for me and knew I had to get across the river to his old tribe. I thought that if I went alone then a Gila-lurk would get me before I even reached the Colorado, so I waited for Vitus. When he arrived a month ago I told him that we needed to leave. He said that if he was gone for such a long time then he'd be branded traitor and therefore be cast from the Legion. I told him that this information could save the Legion._

 _Save them how?_

 _By killing Caesar. Giving these young boys another view of the world from the one which has been forced on them. Vitus is really remarkable in that respect. He hasn't rejected them outright, but there is hope in him that..._

 _Do you know how to open the vault?_

The young woman tugged softly at her braided hair.

 _No. Peter thought by overloading the system it would break it open, but from what I can tell the chip is the only way of getting in._

 _Do you know what this chip is?_

 _No idea._

 _Where exactly is this vault?_

 _From what Peter said, it's near the electro dam, on the Arizona side. He wasn't too specific, he just mentioned a weather station on a hill..._

 _Have you told the Legion about any of this?_

 _Absolutely not. Are you here to kill me?_

Haywood was surprised at the candour of this sudden line of questioning.

 _I didn't expect a rescue. I know Vitus cares, but you should have ignored his plea. It wouldn't matter what I told them in any case._

 _Why?_

 _Because the Legion won't use it. Caesar believes in the usefulness of all: slave or soldier. Technology will breed ineffectiveness and passiveness, or so he believes. If they had the means they would destroy it, but it's unlikely they'd care to seek out the technology to open it. I don't know how strong the tribes of the NCR are, but the might of the Legion is unrivalled. Peter was adamant that these machines could help win any future war. If you ask me, you'll need all the help you can get. The Legion won't stop because of a river - Sunrise was proof of that. They won't stop until they have killed or enslaved everyone up to the Pacific._

So, Vitus was right. Haywood thought about Fernandez's protestations at Sunrise, that if they turned back then, then the information would now be in NCR hands. What's more, Stars was unable to provide any further information regarding the bunker - how to open it or it's exact location. Yet, she countered these reflections with the idea of an army under the command of people like Merritt and Christiansen, combined with what Vitus had said of Bullhead. In fact, what would someone like her do with such an army? She came here to kill someone wholly innocent to protect a secret - someone who was facing a fate worse than death. She wasn't here out of mercy however, she was here on behalf of the NCR. Maybe it was best left a secret after all.

She retrieved the glass shard and Stars flinched slightly at its sight.

 _Take it. Just in case._

 _I don't understand…_

 _You're going to get out of here._

 _What about all these people? Can't you help them?_

 _I can't help anyone, but Vitus can._

* * *

By the time her number was called it was later in the day, and the Sun had ceased being so dominant in the clear afternoon sky. The two of them had used the time sitting and talking about their respective lives: Haywood spoke of her difficult upbringing in Junktown - living in near poverty as her father worked as a caravan guard, who was first to teach her how to shoot. Whilst her mother would work in one of the local saloon's – work that she never fully specified to her daughter. It wasn't until both her parents began working a trading post together that things started to get better for them as a family. Her parents hoped she would continue the business, but the life of army was always her calling.

Stars spoke of her fortune of being a child of one of the elders, otherwise, she would probably have been punished for spending so much time with an outsider like Peter, yet there was an added expectation of her to become a leading warrior within the tribe. She also illustrated a different picture of Vitus: naïve perhaps, but always loyal. He was more gung-ho when he was younger, but the Legion ironically had the opposite effect on his masculinity, and he had steadfastly embraced a form of pacifism. The Legion had indoctrinated new recruits by forcing them to kill when they were young. After doing so they were told to shed any emotional response, but with Stars, he was able to release his inner anguish, and as a result of his brutal training vowed never to kill again. His hunting skills were fortunately for him transferable to the explorer contingent, and therefore, he was able to keep his promise and avoid "frontline" duties.

Stars escorted Haywood to the gate from where the Slave Master had called for her. As they approached they could see that Vitus was waiting alongside. Stars stopped as soon as she saw him.

 _Best you stay here, just in case._ Haywood said.

 _What will happen to you?_

 _Don't you worry about me, I plan on a one on one meeting with Ungala._

 _I've heard he is more monster than human._

 _Well, we're the perfect match then: many have said the same about me._

Haywood smiled, and Stars returned it. Haywood made her way through the open gate, as two guards kept captors who craved to get out at bay. Vitus continued to view Stars as she remained standing amongst the crowd, whilst the Slave Master took Haywood by the arm. Vitus' glaring stopped the closing of the gate, which caused the Slave Master to question him.

 _Speculatore, once we assess your captive we can then look at the slaves._

Haywood felt like mouthing something to him in order to get his attention, but his sight was firmly set on Stars.

 _Vitus? Is that you?_

A legionary, who was walking towards them along the outer perimeter of the fence, had called out his name. This awoke Vitus somewhat who casually turned his head to the newcomer.

 _Palinurus, Ave._ Vitus answered calmly.

 _They told me you ran? That you fought a legionary who was taking a slave._ Laughed the legionary.

Vitus instinctively glanced back to Stars, and in turn, the legionary naturally followed his gaze. The legionary seemingly recognising the figure within the pen walked closer to the fence for a better look. Stars responded by turning quickly, retreating back into the pen.

 _Wait._ The legionary said softly as he analysed the information before him. _Stop her!_ He shouted pointing at Stars.

 _Decanus, what is the meaning of this?_ Asked the Slave Master.

 _This man is a traitor, arrest him._

Haywood now knew the scenario that they faced. With her free hand, she opened her palm, forcing it into the Slave Master's nose. The slave master released his grip as he recoiled, and so Haywood took his arm and in a sudden movement broke it. The slave master cried with pain and fell to his knees. The legionary who had recognised Vitus took him by the scruff of his tunic. Haywood in reply kicked him with the base of her boot in the back of his knee, causing him to slump to the floor, releasing Vitus in the process. The crowd of captors went into a frenzy, initially retreating from the melee. The two gate guards closed in on Haywood armed with their machetes. The closest guard swung at her which Haywood easily avoided, and then in one movement brought her elbow heavily into the side of his head felling him to the floor.

 _RETRIBUTION!_ Shouted the remaining guard.

He brought his sword downwards, but again Haywood dodged, this time punching her fist into his throat. He released his sword holding his neck in pain, slowly falling to his knees. Haywood unmasked her given sign.

 _My fucking arm!_ The Slave Master screamed as he remained kneeling on the floor.

Haywood brought the board down heavily into the side of his head, the sign broke in half as he collapsed to the ground. A cacophony of voices could be heard coming from the tents around them. The captives, realising this was their chance, made for the exit. In the chaos Vitus and Haywood were briefly separated before Haywood found him, taking him by the arm.

 _We need to go, now!_ Haywood shouted.

 _I must get to Stars!_

 _They'll be here any second._

Vitus made an effort to release himself from the hold.

 _Vitus, look at me. We will get her out, but I need your help. We have to work out a plan. You being dead won't help._

Vitus momentarily remained committed to his cause, only to accept Haywood's strategy as the compound entrance was overwhelmed with slaves. Haywood collected one of the machetes from a fallen guard and they made their way to the nearest tent, which was, fortunately, unoccupied. Haywood stripped off her battle armour to make herself more lightweight. The guards had now arrived at the gate, frantically re-capturing slaves who had made their escape. Haywood indicated for Vitus to take the lead so they could get back to the church. As they made their way clandestinely between tents, he would divert legionaries back to the prison pen to help with the prison escape, making excuses for himself as Haywood did her best to stay concealed nearby.

Eventually, they had arrived at the perimeter guard post from which they had entered by. Haywood, taking cover with Vitus amongst some crates was able to analyse the situation: the sentry armed with a submachine gun was still guarding the base of the guard tower, in addition to the two others within the tower itself, armed only with their javelins. Commanding Vitus to remain in cover, Haywood made for the sentry, oblivious to the ruckus ongoing within the camp, who was facing outwards towards the wastes. He turned at the last moment upon hearing the approaching foe, too late, however, as the machete pierced his torso, and he crumpled to the floor releasing his submachine gun. His cries of pain alerted the two sentries in the tower who, having spotted her, released their spears in her direction. Both of them missed their target as she reached the recently dropped released another volley and this time a spear had pierced her left leg. She let out a scream, but refocused her senses, gunning them down with her newly acquired weapon.

Vitus came to her aid as she broke off the stem of the javelin. He took her around his shoulder and they headed back for the sanctuary of the church whilst bells and drums began to emanate from within the camp. Upon reaching the foyer of the old building, Vitus released her carefully onto the floor.

 _Who the fuck was that guy?_ Haywood grunted.

 _He was a Painted Rock, he knew Stars before the Legion._ Vitus explained as he wrapped a makeshift tourniquet around her injury.

 _Huh, best-laid plans and all that._

 _I must go back for her Captain._

 _Okay, ah, just help me to my feet._

Vitus obliged and once on her feet, Haywood presented the submachine gun.

 _You'll need it more than me._ She said.

Vitus took a moment before he responded.

 _No, I've got this far without it._

Haywood nodded.

 _Help me up the stairs, I can cover you from up there._

They both ascended the spiral staircase to the steeple. With some discomfort, Haywood went about setting up an enfilade for Law-Bringer in her newly acquired nest. Vitus however, had been scanning the camp for signs of movement.

 _Stars!_

Haywood looked up from her post. She could see some commotion near the pit entrance where slaves were being herded back inside, but one had been left within a circle surrounded by legionaries. Haywood looked through her scope for a better look. He was right, she was bound and trembling, eyeing the soldiers that had her enclosed. A chanting had begun, but not from the source that they were witnessing. Deep within the camp, a column of legionaries was following a figure who was seemingly headed for the congregation.

 _Vitus, look down the scope. The one in front. Is that…_

Vitus observed with Haywood's assistance in locating the individual. After a moment he confirmed that it was indeed the man known as Ungala.

 _Okay, thanks, Vitus. I'm going to take him out. The moment you hear the shot you rescue her. She's outside the pen so you have to be quick. I suggest covering your face so that you're not recognised._

 _Will we meet after?_

Haywood released a light sigh.

 _I think it's best if we part ways. You'll be able to get away easier without me._

She met his eyes and held out her hand.

 _Good luck Vitus._

The man returned it graciously.

 _Listen's-to-the-River._

 _What?_

 _My name, my tribal name is Listen's-to-the-River._

She released his hand but continued to study the man beside her. A man who remained an enigma.

 _My parents died in battle when I was young. I had no one else. The elders cared for me, but never loved me._

 _Vitus, I don't think this is the time. Stars is…_

 _Please, I owe you this. When I was a child, I was tasked with fetching water from the River of Souls. The elders told stories of our ancestors who lived during the Great Fire, witnessing the dead from the City of Ash drift down the river. And so, it was told that when we die our bodies and our spirits would enter the water. I spent many hours on the riverside, listening for the voices of my parents. I dreamt of becoming a great warrior like them and wanted guidance. Walk-Among-the-Stars was my only friend. She was the only one who believed in me, that I could be something despite my limitations. The Legion made the most of me, but… they didn't care about who I was, or who I am._

 _Wait a minute, you drank water from the river where you put your dead?_ Haywood interjected.

He returned a brief smile.

 _Water for boiling, we had pumps for drinking. All I'm saying is, I owe her. You don't owe anyone. I said before, you don't have to do this, Captain._

 _Faith. My name is Faith._

 _Faith. It is a good name._ _Your parents must believe in you._

The chanting within the camp became louder.

 _Get out of here._ Faith said softly.

River wanted to say something, but he looked away to the source of the noise before returning to meet her eyes.

 _Thank you, Faith._

River backed away, maintaining eye contact for a while before leaving her alone.

* * *

Upon recognising Stars, the legionary known as Palinurus had selected her from the pen during the chaos. After binding her, Palinurus had told her she would be a sacrifice to the Son of Mars for Vitus' betrayal. As the legionaries formed a circle around her, a chanting chorus could be heard in the distance. The slaves lined the fence to witness the ritual. Stars gripped hard on the shard of glass that she concealed in her hand, causing blood to seep out as the chanting got closer. Frightened, she was unsure whether to use it now or to wait.

The circle broke in front of her and the sight ahead caused her to recoil. Black eyes were focused upon her, adjoined with a scaly snout and two snaking horns that were thrust outwards towards her. This hideous "face" lifted upwards revealing the face of a man. Purposely, it would seem, the man would walk head downwards, giving the impression that the animal's head was for all intents and purposes his own. His bodyguard who had followed him, discernible from their lilac uniform instead of the standard scarlet, joined the circle, as the man-beast approached closer. His body was covered in the yellowish-white scales, and feathery spikes protruded above his head down to the base of his back, personifying a decorative spine. His hands were replaced with large claws that stretched down to his knees. All the while the chanting became louder around her - a chorus of his name.

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

Ungala stopped before her. Stars closed her eyes hoping he and the others would simply disappear.

 _Mars, deus belli, Mars, deus pugni._

Ungala spoke softly but from the back of his throat. His Latin impeccable, albeit in accented American.

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

 _Facultatem cum telis dona, Sic adversarios calcem._

He raised his clawed hands and began to stroke her braided hair with the tips of his fabricated nails.

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

 _Armipotentiam dona, Sic ad finem pugnem._

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

He circled around her, the claws barely touching her scalp.

 _Valorem militis dona, Sic ab pugnis nonhorrem._

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

Once he had made her way behind her, he placed the palm of his hand on her crown, gently forcing her downwards. Opening her eyes to this physical command, she obeyed until she was kneeling on the floor.

 _Mars, deus pugni, Mars, deus belli._

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

She began to saw at her bonds with the glass shard as clandestinely as she could. Ungala however, had now made a full circle and was facing her from above. She ceased in terror.

 _In remuneratione ob dona militara, tributum ab pugna dono._

 _UNGALA_

 _UNGALA_

He raised her chin carefully with the edge of his claws until they began to break into her skin, causing her to bleed somewhat. She began weeping from the pain and the fear. Ungala released his hand yet her head remained in place. He retracted his hand back, ready to thrust forward into her exposed chest. Stars closed her eyes once again as tears made their desperate escape.

A shot cascaded throughout the camp, ceasing the chanting instantly, causing a string of confusion amongst the soldiers. Stars re-opened her eyes. The face of the deathclaw was missing, whilst the face of the man within was motionless, his arm still raised in a position to strike. After a brief juncture, one side of his head violently released blood, as though it had been waiting for permission to leave. The man stumbled forward slightly, and Stars thought that he would collapse onto her. Instead, he attempted to right himself with a step backwards, but his body soon succumbed to a series of convulsions, and in one abrupt motion, he buckled heavily onto his back.

* * *

Haywood set Law-bringer down with care against the base of the steeple wall. With a pained release, she sat with an effort next to her instrument, with her back to the chaos that she had just set in motion. She looked down at her hands and BEAR CLAWS stared right back. The warm sunshine beat down upon her face, calling her, and so she turned her gaze towards the west. Towards the setting sun.

THE END


End file.
